The Leadership
by Galaxy-Defending-Hopeful
Summary: Tom Fletcher is an average eighteen year old guy, until one day he is called up by the mysterious new government 'The Leadership' for compulsory work, all supervised by the dark figure of Danny Jones. There is an instant connection between Fletcher and Jones, and soon they become so much more. How will they survive in the ultimate game of life? Flones, mild Pudd in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Apologies for my fairly long absence from this website - I am participating in NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month. This is the first chapter of my nano entry, and the rest will be up soon. Warnings for story: some violence, mild sexual scenes. Flones. This is kind of based off of A Series Of Unfortunate Events in the way it is written, but it is all original content. The story does have quite a lot of plot twists, I can promise you that!**

* * *

_Dear Publisher,_

_As one of the few survivors of the Leadership, you have requested that I write down the story of what eventually lead to the total demise of this country. As you know, many people deny that the Leadership ever happened, while a few members of the Leadership still remain and try to hunt me down. As such, the document itself cannot be sent through the post. It isn't safe. Next time you need to go shopping, go to the Rations Distribution Station on Manning Street. Go to the distributor with dyed purple hair and a lip ring, who may have a badge reading either 'Dougie' or 'Captain Dougwash'. There will be an old bass guitar with 'Tom Fletcher' written on the side of it resting at his feet._

_Once you have reached the purple haired distributor, hand him three cabbages and a fake moustache, along with a newspaper or magazine that you feel he would enjoy (the job of a rations distributor is rather dull, and he would appreciate it). Hand them to him from your left hand. He will nod twice before packaging your cabbages. Wait until you are in a safe place to unpack the vegetables. Within them will be the pure, hard facts of what happened, along with an image of Tom Fletcher and Danny Jones to assist the illustrator, a button from Danny Jones' coat during his time in the Leadership and a Leadership training manual from Tom Fletcher and James Bourne's first room in the work complex. _

_You are my last hope of sharing my knowledge of the Leadership._

_Regards,_

_Rickard Bouillon_

* * *

Often, when enjoying time with loved ones, or friends, time can seem to stop. Clocks may tick, the world may orbit, the lights may change, but time has stopped. In that moment, all that matters, has ever mattered and will ever matter is the pleasure of that moment.

Of course, the polar opposite can be said. In a moment of unadulterated misery, time can flinch and falter. Snow can patter, words can be muttered, stars can die, but time has once more stopped and the entire world of the sufferer orbits around their own personal pain.

Tom Fletcher hadn't done badly at school, nor had he been inspirationally intelligent. He was passed off as another high achiever, just a kid who could write an essay when necessary and do a few sums. His first exams went extremely well, and he seemed all set for University after a gap year of work. That was, of course, before the Leadership.

* * *

It had been almost a year since the Leadership was instated. Power hungry and willing to do anything to get ahead, the Leadership had scraped a majority in the elections and were in charge. Twenty two minutes afterwards, it was announced that the country would no longer be split into regions, but sectors. Sector One, Sector Two, Sector Three. Sector Three contained Scotland and a small wedge of northern England, including some of old Bolton. Sector Two was the rest of England, and Sector One was Wales and Northern Ireland.

"We will regain the power and the glory that the United Kingdom once had. We will become the greatest force on earth once more!" the voice proclaimed, from every radio and television. The voice belonged to one man, the face of the Leadership and the person behind all of the events that would eventually result in...I have said too much already. I have sworn to record the events leading up to the final demise, and that is what I must do. The man's name? Danny Jones.

* * *

"Have you heard about the 'compulsory jobs'?" Tom's mother asked him one morning, as he ate his breakfast. His sister, a girl seven years his junior, was already on her way to school.

"No, what's happening?" Tom asked, before shovelling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

"People from England...Sector Two, rather, are being forced to move to Sector Three and work for the government there. It could be anyone – they just pick randomly."

Glancing up at his mother, Tom couldn't mask his surprise. "What are they doing there?"

"I'm not sure: I only know this because of your friend James' mother – James has received a notice requesting his presence at a selection meeting."

Tom's mouth fell open – James? James might be leaving? James Bourne was a couple of years older than Tom, and was his best friend. They had met through music lessons at school and had bonded.

"B-but, they _can't_ take James!"

Tom's mother, who was called Debbie and was particularly proficient at hard work, sighed. "It's happening all over the country, my love. They might- oh god!"

"What" Tom asked, panicked.

"Me, you and your dad...any of us may be picked."

"What about our jobs here? What about our friends, and the rest of our family?" Tom almost demanded, now completely ignoring the soggy cereal in front of him.

"We'd all have to move, I suppose. We couldn't part each other." Debbie pinched the bridge of her nose as a million thoughts collided in her mind. While she had been aware of the process for almost a full day, she hadn't allowed herself to think too closely about it before she had had chance to consult either Tom or Tom's father, as both had fairly level heads and would be able to give a second side to any argument about it that she could come up with.

"I've got to go to work, mum. Don't worry about it – I'm sure none of us will be selected." Tom gave his mum a quick hug, before leaving the cosy, warm little kitchen. However, he stopped just moments later to pick the post up from the door mat. A letter for his father, two for his mother...and one very official looking one for him, with the logo of the Leadership printed on the front.

The phrase 'blood ran cold' is often misused in literature as simply an exclamation of fear. However, in some cases (such as when one receives a scary looking government letter, or when you discover that your hide out has been compromised and you have mere seconds to escape before a hoard of angry Peruvians bearing pitchforks and your latest novel arrive) the blood feels as if it _has _run cold. Your extremities, such as your fingers and toes, begin to feel cold and numb. This can quickly spread to your hands and feet, before invading the entire body and turning even the very tip of your nose icy cold. I myself have great experience of the blood running cold – I was being chased by a Leadership member several years ago when I turned a corner to hit a dead end. That, of course, is another story.

In that moment, Tom's blood ran cold.

* * *

_Mr Thomas Michael Fletcher,_

_You have been selected to take part in an educative work experience in Sector Three, along with nineteen other youths from your area. You may not bring family or friends as you will be staying in government run quarters. You may bring one small suitcase. You will be working for six to twelve months. On the departure date listed below please go to the front of your house at eight o' clock in the morning to be collected._

_-The Leadership_

Tom's voice cracked as he read aloud the letter; Debbie began to cry. Uncomfortably, Tom placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry, mum. It'll be okay – I'm only going to be gone for six months, a year maximum."

Debbie looked up, her usually warm eyes full of tears. "Tom...have you looked at the departure date on the letter?"

Tom shook his head, confused, before glancing down again at the short letter. Right at the bottom of the creamy paper, a date was stamped. The next day.

"Is that...?" Tom began, before trailing off. Debbie nodded, completely wordless.

"Don't go to work today, please, Tom." Debbie's voice was almost begging, laced with the pure, unadulterated misery that she felt.

Time seemed to stop in that moment as the two horror stuck Fletcher's stood together and tried not to fall apart in front of each other.

* * *

"Hi mum! I'm home!"

The chirpy voice of Carrie, Tom's sister, seemed alien in the misery filled house. Tom and Debbie had spent the day packing Tom's bag and letting people know that Tom was going to be part of the compulsory work initiative. Most people had no idea what it was, but a few seemed to sombrely accept it: they too had received notices either requesting that their young male relative (whether it be son, cousin or other) had to leave and work for the Leadership.

Carrie entered the room, a smile splitting her face. When she saw the dull expressions on her mother and brother's faces, she stepped back, confused. "What's wrong?" she immediately asked.

"Sit down, love." Debbie instructed. "We've had some bad news."

Carrie looked frightened, there was no other way of putting it. Tom was just eighteen, making Carrie eleven. Eleven year old children frequently jump to the conclusion of fear and strike long before necessary. However, in this case, Carrie jumped to that conclusion just at the right moment. It wasn't a particularly difficult conclusion to come to, really: the fear in the room was almost palpable.

"I've had a letter from the new government-"

"The Leadership?" Carrie immediately asked. Tom nodded.

"Yeah, the Leadership. I have to move away for a few months to do work for them, and you and mum and dad aren't allowed to come with me."

Carrie looked a little confused. "Can't you just come and visit?"

Tom winced. "I don't think I'll be allowed to."

Carrie's face crumpled and a tear spilt from one of her eyes. The sight of a child crying is often enough to set anyone off, let alone two stressed, upset people, and within seconds Tom and Debbie were also crying.

* * *

Bob, Tom's father, had worked hard for all of his life. For a long time he had worked with Kodak, in the business of silver recovery. In each film coil, there were small amounts of silver, and it was his job to extract them. It was difficult, sweaty manual labour, the kind of labour that most people detest, Bob being no exception. However, the job was necessary to keep the Fletcher family afloat.

"Tom's going _where_?"

It was Bob's reaction that really made Tom realise the enormity of the situation. Tom's small wage helped the family rather a lot, as he donated the vast majority of it to the family funds. With Tom gone, that chunk of money would be gone. Of course, they wouldn't have to feed Tom any more, but due to Debbie and Bob's thrifty shopping, they didn't actually spend that much on food. The money that Tom brought in exceeded the money spent on him.

"What are we going to do?"

Tears shone in Bob's bloodshot eyes, but he roughly wiped them away with the palm of one grubby, work-roughened hand. People with work-roughened hands are often very trustworthy, I have found. For example, when writing this manuscript for the first time, I was being hunted by a group of Leadership fanatics who insisted that I stop writing. A very kind young gentleman by the name of Harry Judd, who's palms were as roughened by work as any builder, or miner, took me into his home until the crowd passed. They found me eventually, of course, and burned my manuscript, which is why I can tell you this story now.

"It'll be okay, dad. I'll get paid, and I can send the money home."

"I don't mean the money, son. I mean without _you_. How will we get on without you here? The Leadership is full of bas-"

"Bob!" Debbie suddenly cut Bob off, glancing around as if she was expecting a large pair of ears to grow out of the walls. Glancing up at her, he very quickly shut up.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked, confused. Carrie was in her room, simultaneously crying and doing her homework.

"The Leadership...there are microphones everywhere." Debbie very quietly murmured, gesturing to the wall. Rage bubbled up in Tom.

"They're watching us?!" Tom exclaimed loudly, glaring at the wall.

"Shh!" Debbie and Bob both hushed their son, anxiety filling both of their faces. However, as nothing happened after a few seconds Debbie gave a slightly nod.

"Danny Jones is a powerful man. Very powerful indeed."


	2. Chapter 2

**I hope you are enjoying this thus far! Things start to kick off a little bit in this one :)**

* * *

Before Tom saw the huge, greyish-yellow bus with the Leadership logo stamped hugely on its side amble down his street, he hadn't really expected it. He had the letter, of course, but sometimes something doesn't sink in until you truly come face to face with it (in my experience, an angry lion doesn't really seem that bad until it is eating your little finger). Sitting on the gate in front of his home, Tom observed the bus slowly making its way down the street before calling his family, as instructed, to say a final goodbye. They didn't know at the time that for some time, it would be the final goodbye, and that the next meeting would be in considerably more dangerous circumstances, but I do not wish to ruin the story...

"Goodbye, son. I love you, you remember that." Bob squeezed his son tight to him, planting a sloppy kiss on his head, before turning and slowly walking into the house, determined not to let them see the tears that were falling fast.

A pincer like grip made Tom look down: Carrie was hugging him with her entire body, clinging on hard.

"Carrie, I'll be back soon – don't worry. I bet you'll be glad that your smelly brother is gone!" Tom tried to laugh to convince Carrie of his mirth, but it came out sounding rather like a sob. Carrie choked on her own tears before dashing back into the house, leaving just Debbie to see her son off. Grabbing him, she hugged him close, whispering into his ear, "Don't forget that the ears have walls, Tom. I love you..."

* * *

Seeing James on the little bus was probably the greatest relief of Tom's life (the greatest in mine was finding that the lion who ate my little finger had irritable bowel syndrome and had to go to the lavatory before he could eat the rest of me, giving me precious seconds to escape).

"James!"

"Tom!"

Tom threw himself onto James, glad that the grim faced driver had already taken his suitcase. The two hugged each other for a moment before settling into seats beside each other, ignoring the ten or so other boys on the bus, some of whom they also knew.

"I'm so glad you're here!" James confessed. James, at twenty, was probably the oldest boy on the bus at that point. He looked, however, very young as he squished against the window to let Tom sit down.

"Oh mate, I thought I was going to be totally alone – I forgot that mum said you had been asked to go to a meeting or something." Tom replied.

"Yeah – they had to pick between me and another dude to go and they picked me."

Tom sighed. "Why are they even doing this?"

James raised his eyebrows before moving his mouth closer to Tom's ear, speaking in a tone low enough that no one else could hear it. Unfortunately, the microphones on the bus picked it up, which lead to rather a lot of trouble later on.

"They need cheap labour, and English people – or people from bloody _Sector Two _as they like to say – are the only ones they can exploit easily. Danny Jones thinks that we'll do what he says."

Tom stared at him, before leaning in in a similar fashion. "I hate the Leadership. They've got everyone under their spell, but I think they're a bit like the Nazi's...Danny Jones is Hitler!"

James shook his head slightly. "They're not killing anyone...Jones is more like Margaret Thatcher than Hitler, mate."

* * *

The bus journey seemed to have lasted for hours, with no food or water. However, when the bus finally ambled to a halt in front of a vast, grey-stony building with no buildings around it for miles, the clock at the front of the bus only read midday.

"Get off the bus!" the grim faced bus driver called. There were more boys than when Tom got on – twenty of them now. As the departed from the vehicle, Tom realised that he knew almost all of them in one way or another. Some from school, others from work, and others still from the occasions he had collected Carrie from the primary school playground a year or so previously.

"Collect your luggage then go to the door – you will be met by Danny Jones."

A ruffle ran through the crowd at that: Danny Jones _himself_, there to meet them? Some of the boys were strong supporters of the Leadership and were enamoured with the prospect of meeting him, while others disliked what the Leadership stood for and resented having to leave their homes to work for Jones. Tom stayed close to James as the crowd walked closer and closer up to the huge complex. Just before they knocked at the door, however, it opened. There he was. About the same height as Tom, with curly brown hair and clear blue eyes. He was only seventeen, yet considered a genius by most: in just one year he had gone from creating a party with no support to leading and changing a country.

"You must be the compulsory workers from Sector Two! Good to meet ya – come on in!"

Danny's voice startled all of them. On the Leadership broadcasts, he always sounded fairly eloquent, with clear, precise tones. Here, though, his voice was warm and sounded strongly like any other Bolton accent. Grinning, he helped them all through into the building. Inside, it was chilly, with a sharp edge of coldness to the air that was unpleasant for all parties.

"You are here to assist your government and the people of this wonderful nation in our masterplan to achieve great power and responsibility again! The work is simple, and will be paid, and there will be chance to write to or even call your families. Unfortunately, due to the distance, none of you can visit your families, but they will have three or four chances to pay a little to be brought here to see you. Your time here may be the best of your life!"

As Danny spoke, he ran his eyes over the raggle-taggle group of boys. Just as he did so, however, Tom managed to trip over thin air and sprawl right to Danny's feet, his head actually smacking against Danny's knee as he went down.

"Stand up!" Danny ordered, voice suddenly sharp and crisp again. Tom slowly stood up, making his unwillingness to do anything that Danny ordered him to do quite plain.

"What's ya name?"

"Tom Fletcher."

"That's Tom Fletcher _sir_, to you." Danny reprimanded. Tom couldn't resist the opportunity.

"I'm being made a sir? Wicked!"

Tom couldn't have anticipated the next motion, nor could the others. I feel aghast that I must share it, but to give a complete account of the downfall of the Leadership I must. Danny's hand flew out and slapped Tom hard across the face, sending him reeling backwards into James, who fell over and caused a domino effect amongst the young men. When they were all standing again, Danny was frowning.

"I won't take cheek from any of you. As for you, Fletcher? I know ya name."

Tom desperately wanted to laugh at that, or make some snide comment (I am sure you can think of the type of comment), but he repressed it deep inside of him.

"Now, I will take you all up to where you will be staying while you work here. Food will appear in the rooms at regular intervals through a slot, and there is a toilet and shower cubicle in each dormitory. Other than for work and organised recreation, no one is to leave their room." Danny's clean, elocution-lesson gained tones were once more in full power.

* * *

Two people were to share each room, and the choice was down to them, a fact which delighted both Tom and James. They immediately sidled closer to each other, and entered their accommodation. The room was fairly small, and painted beige, with rough wooden slats on the floor. In the corner of the room was a bunk bed, with each bed set up with a rough looking grey blanket and single pillow. A door lead to a tiny room with a toilet, small shower and sink. Back in the room itself was a large table (with a pile of paper and envelopes in the corner of it), two chairs, a chest of drawers and a shelf already stuffed with books. Tom eagerly inspected them (his love for books was passionate) but then drew away, disappointed: all were either guides on the rules and regulations of 'New United Kingdom', descriptions of the Leadership or biographies about Danny Jones.

"It's okay, I guess." James slowly said, equally as disappointed as Tom.

"Maybe if we unpack it'll seem a bit more homely." Tom suggested. However, before either of the boys could unpack, a slot above the table which neither had noticed before opened and a tray came out, seemingly reluctant, followed by another, which pushed the first dangerously close to the edge of the table. On each was a plate of vegetables covered in some strange sauce, a small pot of yogurt and a carton of apple juice.

"Lunch." Tom dully said. "Yippee."

James laughed. "Cheer up, mate. We've got nothing to do after lunch, we can make this place as awesome as we like."

* * *

After unpacking, the room did transform from a dull little pit to a young-man-haven. I should know – after the demise, I visited it and took photographs so that when my drink was eventually drugged to delete my memories of the Leadership, I could still remember the peaceful little room where Thomas Michael Fletcher experienced some lifechanging events.

James, who had more forethought than Tom, had packed a few posters and magazines to spruce up the walls, which almost immediately made a massive impact. Tom had had a slightly different opinion of what he had needed to pack, and produced an impressive number of toys, including movie memorabilia and plain and simple teddy bears. A few went straight on Tom's bed (the top bunk), but most were secreted around the room. A couple of the more durable, plastic toys found a watery home in the shower, while others were tucked between bed posts and onto doorknobs. The small additions of toys and posters made Tom instantly feel more relaxed.

"I wish we could have brought our guitars with us." Tom regretfully said, absent-mindedly strumming the air.

"I wish I could have brought my band with me! We were just about to get signed to a record deal and everything!" James replied.

"Ah yeah, Busted. How's the songwriting going?"

"Well – want to hear a song? It's called 'Loser Kid'."

The sound of James' voice filled the room, occasionally accompanied by a random, on-the-spot harmony from Tom. I have in my possession one of the few cd's that Busted were able to burn before the demise, and the music on it is quite different to any music produced before and any music produced since. I wish that I could share that with you, but the room is slowly filling with water and I must type this tale before I myself die.

* * *

The next morning, the two boys awoke to a claxen-like siren blasting out in the small room, seemingly shaking them down to their bones. Neither could see where it was coming from, and the bedside clock that Tom had brought with him read 5:30. _Five thirty. _In Tom's mind, only one five thirty existed and that was in the afternoon (or perhaps the evening, if you are fond of an early night). Stumbling out of bed, the two quickly dressed (both had showered the previous evening, using the gritty bar of soap provided instead of the sanitary items they had brought with them) and ate the breakfast that plopped through the slot – gluey porridge with dried fruit, a mug of strong black coffee (Tom, though he didn't believe in any deity, thanked god in that moment) and some sort of mashed fresh fruit which tasted vaguely of raspberries. Just moments after the slot accepted their trays back after eating, the door suddenly swung open without provocation.

"It's too early." Tom said. It was a statement, said in a way that made it plain it wasn't up for negotiation. James nodded before stretching out into a bone-cracking yawn. The two ambled out of the room into the dimly lit corridor to find, yet again, Danny standing there. As soon as the twentieth boy was there, Danny clapped his hands.

"Good mornin'! Time for work. Spli' into two groups of ten."

Blearily, they all obeyed, standing in two huddles either side of the corridor. Tom had a firm hold on James' sleeve so as not to lose him.

"Right! You're goin' to be doin' some manual labour today." Danny said with a smile as he indicated Tom's group, "And you'll be doin' secretary stuff."

Danny had spent an hour the previous day listening to the microphone tapes from the bus that had brought the men there, and had heard James and Tom's whispered conversation comparing himself to Hitler and Margaret Thatcher. This had pissed him off enough to inspire him to put poor Tom in the manual group for at least a week, unfortunately.

* * *

After two hours of painting, Tom felt like he was going mad. The initial chatter had settled into a few muttered words now and then as everyone felt the creepy little parasite that is boredom overcome them. They had travelled for an hour or so on bus into a city which Danny described to them (he was staying with their group, and the other was supervised by his friend Charlie Simpson, another main MP for the Leadership) as 'the new capital'. It was Bolton, or at least part of it.

"James, can you pass the turpentine?" Tom mumbled, vaguely aware that he had blobbed some of the dull brown paint he was currently using onto the dusky pink paint he had finished with ten minutes previously.

"Sure."

The building was being painted in sections, to look like a patchwork. It was not Danny's idea, but in fact his publicist team's, but it was being advertised as all down to Danny. A patchwork to show the patchwork of new and old in his government. Of course, Danny's government was more like a thick coil of old rope – slightly threatening and a little bit useless – but no one dared say so. Danny's slap the previous day had inspired obedience amongst his workers.

"Lunch break!" Danny called. Relieved, paintbrushes were dropped and cans of paint left. The ten walked to Danny, backs hunched and eyes hollow. The work was deathly boring, and tiring – all of them had a twitchy arm, or a sore back, from the light but repetitive labour.

* * *

Somehow, Tom ended up at the back of the queue for food. It didn't look that appealing to start with – some kind of meat 'stewed' (I reluctantly use the term stewed – it was more like boiled to death and then simmered for several days, much like I almost was when I first took up the challenge of researching the Leadership and writing its history) in water with a large variety of mushy vegetables, a glass of water and a banana. He was, however, eager to get it as his appetite was pretty much endless and he was used to Debbie and Bob's excellent cooking at home (as well as questionable attempts at food by Carrie). Thinking of his family suddenly made Tom well up – he would write to them as soon as he got back. He did miss them rather tremendously, and it all suddenly washed over him as emotion does tend to.

"Ask me for your lunch, Fletcher." Danny suddenly said, breaking Tom out of his thoughts.

"Can I have my lunch?" Tom tersely replied.

"Can I have my lunch _sir_?" Danny reminded him.

"Honestly, I am still not over the fact I have been made a sir. I am _honoured_." Tom sarcastically said, grinning from ear to ear. The slight bruise on his cheek caused by Danny's slap wasn't enough to stop the words from pouring out.

"No lunch, Fletcher. And when we get back, you can come to my office to do some special jobs..." Danny lightly said. An overwhelming sense of rage at the situation filled Tom, and in a moment of daring he reached out and grabbed a banana before sloping over to James, who was tentatively watching from behind his hand.

"Give me the banana." Danny had followed him, and was now standing about him as Tom had decided to flop down onto the floor.

"Give me the banana _sir._" Tom grinned, not letting his spirit be crushed. That is, sadly, when Danny lost it again. He reached out and grabbed Tom by his collar, yanking him upwards.

"Are ya mocking me?" he asked, his voice dangerous but also tainted with his accent once more.

"Never, sir. I'm hurt at the mere suggestion!" Tom replied.

_Smack!_

Danny's hand clashed against Tom's cheek once more, sending ripples of pain through Tom's face. For a man who appeared relatively skinny, and not muscular at all, Danny could pack a surprising painful slap.

"I said, _are ya mocking me?_" Danny whispered, Tom's face an inch or two from his own. Closeness can often be on one of two poles – extremely comfortable and pleasant, or extremely uncomfortable and unwanted. This was definitely the latter for Tom, though Danny almost certainly felt some form of sick pleasure as he held Tom close to him.

"And I said, _never, sir. I'm-_"

_Whack! Smack!_

Two more slaps silenced Tom, though his eyes flickered with pain.

"Are you mocking me, you posh little William Shakespeare."

Where I say the name of a classic author, you can imagine a swear word, because that is what truly came then. I must, however, keep the content of this manuscript relatable for all of the generations that will read it and weep at how pitiful society once was. Swear words eventually run out of stream, but classic authors rarely do.

Silence.

_Whack!_

"One last chance, you Charles Dickens Louisa May Alcott."

Tom suddenly decided to look Danny in the eyes (not that it was difficult, seeing as Danny was now only an inch or so away from him). He was startled at the shade of blue they were. Bright aquamarine, such a pretty colour. The colour seemed fresh and clean, two words which you wouldn't normally associate with someone like Danny Jones. Sinister and terrifying would be better suited. Maybe cruel and unusual.

"Yes, I was mocking you...sir."

Truth be told, Tom feared Danny. He feared those harsh slaps, which burned his face so painfully. He feared his strange, twisted voice. Most of all, he feared those beautiful eyes. He feared that he would fall into them and swim, swimming right through Danny's mind. If he did that, he could never escape them again.

"Fletcher, come and get some lunch."

Tom drew back, utterly surprised. That wasn't what he was expecting. Another slap, maybe, or some harsh statement declaring him a maggot, a worm, a useless little Susan Coolidge (remember the use of classic authors instead of swear words).

"Sorry?" Perhaps he had heard incorrectly.

"Come and get some bloody lunch."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for so many reviews! I never get this many reviews! I really, really appreciate it - virtual cookies to those that review!**

* * *

Halfway through the afternoon, Danny briefly left to fetch some more lilac paint, as they had run out. Immediately, the other nine flocked around Tom.

"Dude, what _happened_?"

"Why did he give you lunch?"

"Did it hurt when he was hitting you like that?"

Tom grinned. "I don't know, I don't know, and yes, yes it did. Can't you see the bruises?"

It was true. Under the fluffy blonde hair, wide, inviting brown eyes and sharp cheekbones livid blue and red bruises were beginning to form. Tom had noticed them in the reflection of what felt like the hundredth can of paint (coloured, funnily enough, 'Bruise Blue', a colour which I am yet to track down and test as to whether it truly is bruise blue).

"Well done for standing up to him!" one of the boys, who Tom had a feeling was called Brad, brusquely said. "He's an idiot, and I hate him."

Tom suddenly remembered his parents words about microphones and perhaps even hidden cameras, and quickly hushed them, miming someone singing into a microphone. There was a quiet, collective understanding 'ahh' from the group: all of them had at one point or another in the short reign of the Leadership wondered how the government knew certain things, and that explained it.

"Why are none of ya workin'?"

All of them jumped at the sound of Danny, and filed away quickly.

"Fletcher, what did ya say to them?"

"They came over to me, sir." Tom quietly replied, focusing on the wall so as to avoid those eyes.

"It's time to go back to your new home now anyway." Danny said, and a sigh of relief ran through the room.

* * *

"Fletcher, I don't like ya, what's the word, underminin' my authority. I'm the leader of the flippin' country and ya need to respect me." Danny lectured to Tom, who was studying his feet and trying to ignore both the throbbing in his cheeks from the bruising and the eyes that he was sure he could drown in.

"Sorry, sir." he quietly replied.

"You're hot, ya know."

Tom's neck almost snapped he looked up that fast. Danny was sat spread-legged on his desk, grinning at Tom.

"Thought that'd make ya look." Danny smiled. Tom noticed that Danny's nose snubbed up a little when he smiled, in a way that was completely and utterly adorable. This Danny seemed completely different to the smartly dressed, intelligent man in the adverts and on television. Oh, how I wish I could go back and warn Tom. To warn him of the terrible things that would happen, and to tell him not to do what he did next. I can't, but I am sworn to documenting exactly what happened. Suddenly, Tom reached close to Danny and kissed him, pressing his own reddish, chapped lips against Danny's smooth pink ones. Danny immediately responded, parting his lips slightly and slipping one hand down Tom's back. Tom grabbed Danny's hips, and soon the two were sat together on the floor, kissing for all they were worth. Just as Tom was going to go a step further, Danny pulled away and stood up.

"This never happened." he coldly stated, wiping his lips on his hand. In that moment, Tom felt the familiar surge of hatred for the man return: the hatred he had felt when the letter had originally arrived, the bitterness when he had first been slapped, the bemused disgruntlement when he had been woken at 5:30.

"You're a dick." Tom said conversationally.

"Thank you." Danny replied. "Now get out."

* * *

_Dear mum, dad and Carrie,_

_How are you? I'm not so great. Don't worry about me, though – everything is okay. I'm just not used to physical labour. I can see why you're so tired when you get home, dad! The cooking isn't as good as any of yours (yes, even your dodgy stuff Carrie) but it's okay, I suppose. It's filling, even the weird fruit mash that we get at breakfast. You'd be proud, mum, I'm eating more fruit and vegetables than I ever have before. We get up at 5:30, which is slightly mental – you know how bad I am at getting up at 7:00 for work, so imagine what I'm like now! God, I miss you all so much. I miss the cats and the dog as well. I especially miss my bed! I'm sharing a room with James, so it isn't all bad. I get on sort of well with Danny Jones now as well. He might have some strange ideas but he's okay if you stay on his good side (which of course, being me, I managed not to). _

_Please write soon, and send news and photographs!_

_Love,_

_Tom xxx_

* * *

_Dear Tom,_

_We're all good, though we miss you tremendously. Carrie has gotten into a new show on the West End, 'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang'. She's as excited as you were when you got into Oliver at her age! Your dad is looking for a different job while still working this one, so things are a little bit tense sometimes. Don't worry, though, son. We're fine. It'll all be fine. The money from your first week's work arrived, and it was more than we expected! We're going to try and put some aside from each of your payments to give to you when you come home. It won't always be possible, but we can try! _

_Wow, life there sounds very different. I can't imagine you at 5:30 in the morning – you're like a zombie at 9:00 on a good day, so 5:30 must be very interesting. We're all glad that you and James are sharing a room: it'd be unbearable to share with some you disliked, wouldn't it? We're glad that you get on with Danny, as well – having a boss you can't abide can be tiring._

_Enclosed are plenty of photographs, and some chocolate in case you need it._

_Lots and lots of love,_

_Mum, dad and Carrie xxx_

* * *

Tom didn't want to admit just how tearful the letter from his family made him. Debbie's familiar script tore at his heart, as did the news of his sister and father. However, it was the line '...so things are a little bit tense sometimes.' that really worried him. What if his parents broke up when he was still away from them? Who would take the house? Where would he and Carrie go? The photos hurt as well - old photographs of his childhood, sweet ones of him and Carrie splashing around in a swimming pool, one of Tom on his tenth birthday holding up a ten pound note that someone had given him, well before money was changed to credits.

"Got a letter?" James asked from the bottom bunk. Tom nodded, and then felt stupid because James was beneath him and couldn't see a nod.

"Yeah. Made me cry a bit."

"Yeah, same." James agreed. "My mum sent some sweets, do you want some?"

Tom took the precarious climb down the wobbly bedstead, his own chocolate in hand. Splitting the bar in half, he handed one of the two wedges to James, who returned the favour with a large handful of brightly coloured gummy drops, which looked ridiculously out of place in the room.

"I want to go home." Tom suddenly said, before stuffing a gummy drop into his mouth. "I miss my family too much."

"Tom, I'm beginning to have a funny feeling about all of this work. It's all stuff that they could easily get day workers to do, and can't be worth the bed and board for all twenty of us. I think there might be an, um, ulterior motive?" James replied, biting his lip. There was no point trying to hide their voices – they had spent a day programming the microphones to go to Sector One, and they could pick up anything from the faintest whisper to the loudest bellow. If they were going to be rebellious, there was no hiding it.

"I'm going to write back to my family." Tom said, giving James a tiny wink. Quickly, he sat down at the table and scribbled something out on a sheet of paper.

'_We can run away – the door is always open. They aren't expecting it._'

James nodded, raising his eyebrows a little and indicating the items around them. Tom thought for a second, before writing,

'_We can pack them. If we go in the middle of the night having our suitcases with us won't really matter. We'll be long gone by morning._'

James' next response was to drag his suitcase out from under the bed.

* * *

Until recently, I had in my possession a very shaky CCTV tape which showed James and Tom's attempted escape. The footage wasn't of a good quality, but it was precious evidence for the Leadership. Unfortunately, I lost it to a crowd of angry Leadership members shortly after the demise, who found my very principle's abhorrent. Ergo, the following paragraph or two may be a little hazy to match my memories.

"James, this door's open!" Tom whispered, sliding the ninth door he had tried open and staring out into the barren surroundings of the complex. The two carefully walked out of the door, their suitcases held with one hand instead of being dragged to lessen the noise.

"Keep to the shadows, the cameras might not pick us up then." James quietly suggested, grabbing Tom's arm when he went to step directly out in front of the building. The two crept along the edge of the building until they were at the very edge of it, facing what they hoped beyond hope was the right direction.

"James, look..." Tom muttered, gingerly pointing a finger out into the vast nothingness. James turned and saw a bus very similar to the one that had taken them there...with the door swinging open. From the distance they couldn't see anyone in it or around it. Moments later, the two were sprinting towards the bus.

* * *

"We'd better dump this somewhere as far away from our houses as we can walk." Tom said faintly as the early hours of the morning began to dawn. They were entering the neighbourhood in which they both lived in London, and had been driving for almost six hours. Tom found that his skills in driving a car didn't transfer to driving a bus, but he was significantly better at it than James, who had screeched and swerved along for ten minutes before Tom took over.

"There's that old building site that no one works on any more." James suggested. Tom nodded, and drew the bus around the final corner. He parked as quickly as possible, but old, smelly buses don't tend to be the slyest, quietest vehicles in the world, as Tom discovered. He half expected members of the Leadership to run out and grab them in any second, and ducked down, eyes shut. After a minute, however, no one came, so himself and James left with their suitcases (after, very brightly, wiping down the surfaces that they had touched with their sleeves).

"See you soon, James." Tom quickly grabbed his roommate into a tight hug before dropping away like a fly.

"I hope so." James replied, nibbling the edge of his lip.


	4. Chapter 4

**Enjoy this chapter! It's very...interesting...to say the least. Thank you so much to my adorably wonderful anonymous reviewers, who I appreciate very dearly. Thank you also to the members of this website who have reviewed, especially my gorgeous kbeto. I'm not quite sure whether he has lead me astray or vice versa, but I know for sure one of us is a bad influence on the other! This chapter is dedicated to my friend Savanna, who took her life on the 13/11/12. I miss you, Sav. xxx**

* * *

"Where are the other two?" Danny bellowed. "Where are they?"

The incredibly frightened Leadership members (who didn't know the real truth behind Danny, as they were newer members - the truth that I haven't yet revealed even to you) averted their eyes from Danny – his passionate anger wasn't particularly enjoyable to watch, and they knew that the simplest thing could set him off.

"They show up on this CCTV camera – look!" one of the suddenly exclaimed, turning his screen towards Danny. A five second clip played on repeat: two flickering figures running towards the bus. Thankfully, or perhaps not, the cameras had blind spots and nothing more of the two was seen.

"Find them." spat Danny, in a dangerously low voice. "Find them and bring them here."

The bravest of the Leadership members stood up. "Sir, that might not be possible – they might have left the Sector...in all this time, they could be in Sector bloody One..." Their voice trailed away when they saw the expression on Danny's face.

"Are you refusing to follow my orders?" he quietly asked, his voice suddenly level and even. Often, the most terrifying people don't scream and shout, but simply go very, very quiet. The worker hastily sat down again, tucking a strand of her dingy brown hair behind her ear.

"No, sir." she muttered, eyes very firmly on the floor.

"That's good. Now FIND THEM!"

* * *

It is often interesting to see people's reactions to events they weren't expecting. Some go pale, others go red. Some focus, some faint. Debbie Fletcher did all four. Staring at Tom's face, she turned an incredibly pale colour, before red started to stain her cheeks. She opened her mouth to say something, eyes bright, but suddenly crumpled to the floor. Behind her, someone ran out – Carrie.

"Tom!" she squeaked. Evidently she'd been told about the risks of the microphones.

"Carrie!" he muttered. She ran at him and he scooped her into a tight hug, before quickly putting her down again and kneeling to his mother. After a few moments, her eyes opened once again and she stared dreamily up at Tom, a smile beginning to play on her lips.

"Is that really you?" she asked, rubbing her eyes with one hand and using the other to try and prop herself up.

"Yeah, mum. I'm not meant to be here...I escaped. It was too bad."

Debbie immediately stood up, a nervous look on her face. "Come in, and tell us everything. Your dad's at work, but he'll be back later. Thank god it's a Sunday, or all three of us would be out..."

* * *

Tom was fairly certain he had never been more content than he was in that moment, sat in the living room with his mother and sister, eating his way through a large pile of buttered toast and writing down his answers to their questions so that the microphones didn't pick his voice up (he was right to be cautious – upon his escape, nine extra microphones had been triggered in his home).

"I'm going to go and get a cup of tea, Carrie." Debbie said loudly, giving Tom a little wink. She was trying hard to make the microphones know that only her and Carrie were there. However, suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Do you remember our discussion on blood running cold?

All three Fletcher's blood ran cold.

However, in a flash of inspiration, Tom ran for the cupboard under the stairs. Secreted in there was a trapdoor to the cellar, a storage place and occasional spare room. The reason that it was so special was that it hadn't shown up on the blueprints of the house that they had been given when they moved in, nor had anyone told them about it. They had discovered it completely by accident one day when Tom was about thirteen and Carrie six. The two had been playing hide and seek, and Carrie had gone to hide under the stairs. However, a foul step had opened the trap door, sending Carrie plummeting down four or five feet until she hit a step. Now, it was their little storage centre/hiding place.

"Oh, okay." Debbie nodded. Raising her eyebrows at Carrie, she slowly walked over to the front door. While she did so, Carrie shut the door after Tom and pushed the vacuum cleaner and mop over it, trying hard to disguise it.

"Hello?"

"Are you Debbie Fletcher?"

"Yes, I am. What's the problem?" Her voice didn't falter.

"Your son has escaped from his Leadership-provided accommodation in Sector Three and we have reason to believe he's here."

In that moment, anyone watching would have sworn that Debbie was an actress rather than her two children. "How could you let him escape? What if he gets hurt, or he _dies_?" she screamed, launching herself at the Leadership officials on her doorstep.

"So he isn't here?" Uncertainty.

"What do you think?" Debbie suddenly sank to the floor, apparently crying.

"O-okay, ma'am, we'll let you know if we locate him."

The door closed quietly. Debbie immediately began to close all of the curtains surrounding the living room, which was the room that the cupboard under the stairs and ultimately the cellar lead to.

"Wow..." Carrie murmured, unable to say anything else about her mother's performance, partially due to her surprise and partially because of the microphones.

* * *

"There's no microphones down here." Tom said as soon as the trapdoor was opened and the females of his family came down to talk to him.

"Really?" Carrie exclaimed, looking around with excitement. That upset Tom more than he could ever say. Before the Leadership, Carrie would have been excited about their mum buying chocolate spread, or about being made register monitor at school. Now, she was excited that one of the rooms in their house wasn't bugged. Of course, the political situation had been dire for a long time – right from when the death penalty was reintroduced into society and corporal punishment into schools, society and government had been going down the drain. The war with Australia had pushed them in an even worse direction.

"We can talk freely, then." Debbie commented, smiling a little bit as she slammed the trap door shut once more.

"I think I should stay down here for a while, until they stop bothering with me." Tom bluntly suggested. "They're going to come and try and get me again, but since no one seems to know that we have a cellar, it should all be fine."

Debbie bit her lip hard. "What about money, Tom? I hate to bring it up, but we can barely afford just the three of us without your income, anyway."

"Do we still have the internet?" Tom suddenly asked. Debbie nodded. "I can get money, then, don't worry."

Debbie sighed. "As long as it's safe, Tom, we do need it."

"I'll sign it to your bank account so that it doesn't look like I'm doing it and then transferring the money to you."

* * *

Tom felt sick to his stomach as he read and re-read the message he was sending.

_Dear Dougie,_

_I know that I said I wasn't going to ask for money for the bass guitar I gave to you last year unless I absolutely needed to, but times are desperate. I really need the money – the 250 credits that we agreed on, plus 50 credits for the strap, case and plectrums that I sent with it. Thanks, mate, and I'm sorry to have to do this to you._

_- Tom_

At the bottom of the email were the bank details that Dougie would need. The previous year, Tom had given up attempting to learn bass as well as regular guitar, piano, drums and various other instruments. As such, he'd given his beautiful bass and accessories to a kid a few years younger than him called Dougie, with the promise he'd only ask for credits (the new currency) if absolutely necessary. Now, times were tough and Tom most definitely needed the money from Dougie. Little did Tom know that the email, while being his family's saviour, would be his own downfall.

Send.

Guilt flooded Tom as he thought over what he'd done. However, he knew that he needed the money, and he knew that Dougie would probably have it. A response came though almost immediately.

_Dear Tom,_

_I was wondering when I'd get this email – the economy's rough, and everyone is getting poorer. I've transferred the 300 credits across, along with ten credits for your time. I'm sorry that I can't give you more, but I had saved what I would need to pay for the guitar and nothing more because I need the rest of my money just to live._

_I hope you're okay, Tom._

_- Dougie_

"Mum!" Tom called, aware that he couldn't be too loud or the microphones upstairs might pick him up, but equally as aware that he was mostly safe to make some noise down there. After a few minutes, Debbie appeared, looking anxious.

"There should be three hundred and ten extra credits in your bank account now."

Debbie stared, open-mouthed at her son. "Three hundred and ten?"

"For the bass guitar I gave to that kid last year."

Debbie nodded, looking a little relieved. "I was thinking you were going to prostitute yourself, or something like that."

Tom laughed. "Who'd want someone like me?!" he exclaimed.

"Shh!" Debbie hushed, glancing around. Although Tom had proved that there were no microphones in the cellar ("My name is Tom Fletcher, I snogged the leader of the Leadership and I have escaped from the compulsory work place.") she was still nervy whenever she was around Tom himself.

"It's okay mum, seriously."

Sidenote. Dramatic irony is horrible. In case you don't know, it is when a 'consumer' of some form of media (in this case, this manuscript) knows more than the people or characters within it. This is an excellent case of dramatic irony, because you and me both know that it is not all okay and terrible things will happen before it is all okay. Sidenote over.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: mild sexual content. Thank you very much for the kind comments on this story so far! I have written 21 chapters so far, and there should eb about 2 chapters more than that, maybe 3 or 4. I will let you know the final word count and chapter count as soon as possible!**

* * *

It was roughly midnight when Debbie woke up. She wasn't exactly sure what had woken her, but a sickly feeling of danger overtook her as soon as she did. _Tom. _There was something wrong with Tom. As soon as Debbie thought this, she realised that it was the cold hard truth. In an instant she had stumbled out of bed and was rushing down the stairs to where her son was. It was, however, too late. She heard the front door slam. Running to the door, she yanked it open again just in time to see Tom be pulled into a small, black car and for that car to speed off. His face popped up in the back window and he looked utterly distraught as he banged the glass, staring out mournfully at his mother.

"No..." Gasping, moaning, crying, Debbie fell to her knees and rested her head on them. Tom was gone again. What would happen to him? What would happen to them? How had they even found him? As Debbie cried, she realised that these were questions that she may never get the answer to.

* * *

It was, of course, the email that Tom had sent that had alerted the Leadership to Tom's location. As soon as they discovered him and James missing, both of their email accounts and mobile phones had been bugged so that anything sent from them would immediately be forwarded on to Danny himself. James had been discovered within an hour of them discovering them missing, and was at that moment trapped in a tiny attic room, being fed very little and left to go insane. A different fate was concocted for Tom on the drive to his home, however.

"You're gonna be my personal slave." Danny said, with a grin that told Tom he clearly relished that fact. A strange wriggle ran through Tom's stomach - 'slave' sounded a lot more sinister than just assistant, or helper.

"No way." Tom immediately replied. His cheeks were still littered with the marks of Danny's anger, but he didn't care. No _way _was he going to be a slave for some jumped up, stupid idiot who was, worst of all, a year younger than himself.

"If you don't, you'll be shot." Danny gave a twisted smile as he told Tom his options, knowing all too well what Tom would pick.

"Fine. I'll do it."

The truth was, Tom was simply scared to look into the blue eyes of his greatest opponent to date and say 'No', because he knew that Danny would concoct some awful, vicious way of telling his family that he was dead. He couldn't leave them, especially not poor Carrie, who idolised him a little. She would be totally crushed by the news of his death.

Danny laughed, but his clear eyes were dull and downcast, which confused Tom a little. "You'll do everything for me, Fletcher. If I ask for it, you'll spoon tha' food into my mouth."

"Kinky." Tom replied, staring down at his bare feet. He'd been snatched from his slumber, and as such was dressed merely in pyjamas and nothing else. He didn't have a suitcase with him this time, either.

Danny laughed once more, turning to Tom and smiling. "Ya know, Fletcher, for someone who has caused so much trouble, you're funny."

"My wit, charm and good looks are my three greatest features." Tom sarcastically conceded, stretching out a little and allowing his sleep-weary bones to move.

"I think we woulda been friends if we'd gone to th'a same school." Danny supposed, cracking his knuckles.

"Why do you think that? Because you have a crush on my devilishly handsome looks?" Tom couldn't help but smile.

"Of course!" Danny concurred. "No, I mean because of the banter. I reckon we'd have gotten on."

Neither of the young men mentioned their one kiss, for neither felt it was necessary in the context of the conversation. It was just something that had happened, and something that didn't relate at all to their situation in the moment. However, neither forgot it. In that moment, Tom failed to drag his eyes from Danny's lips, while Danny stared off, just a little dazed, as he remembered that Tom's lips tasted so sweet.

"Why do I have to work for you?" Tom questioned, turning and, for the first time, locking eye contact directly with Danny and maintaining it for more than a second. Danny patted his knee.

"I picked the guys I fancied to work for me. Guys I'd noticed on CCTV cameras, stuff like that." Danny confessed. "And you were my first pick."

* * *

Danny's room was pretty amazing. Even Tom had to admit that he wished he had a room like that. It was vast, dwarfing any other room in the complex, with a huge, soft four poster bed in the very centre. Posters wallpapered the entire room: bands, movies, the occasional naked chick. A mass TV was mounted in one corner, with lots of other goodies like a walk in wardrobe and a huge pile of chocolate bars spread around the rest of the room. In one corner was Tom's new abode. A single bed and a box.

"What's in the box?" Tom asked.

"My dildo collection." Danny deadpanned, before laughing. "Your new uniform."

"Uniform?" Tom's eyebrows practically shot off of his head he raised them that fast.

"To stop ya from escapin' again – I doubt you want anyone seein' you in your uniform." Danny snickered, filling Tom with dread. Cautiously, he opened the box, his reluctance to look inside plain as he squeezed his eyes shut tight. When he opened one, he was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't anything too bad (I have reliable evidence that the Fletcher costume is now used on the West End in the show Les Miserables. Quite appropriate, considering how miserable this story is). A pair of tight-looking white boxers emerged first, followed by a pair of soft black ankle socks. Scratchy black trousers, a plain white shirt, a black blazer and a black tie. A pair of black shoes sat at the bottom. When he was dressed in them, he'd simply look like a school boy.

"You got some weird uniform kink, Danny?" Tom asked, a tiny smile playing on his lips. Danny exploded with laughter.

"No, I've got a kink for people who shut up and do the work that they've been told to do." Danny's clean, free-of-accent voice had returned. However, there was a moment before he grinned, "Well, maybe a little bit."

"I don't really understand how you're into me, then, because I don't usually shut up and do what I've been told." Tom replied. Before he could say or do anything else, however, he felt a firm hand land on his bum – harder than a pat, softer than a slap. Another hand joined it, and he could feel the warmth of these two hands seeping through his pyjama bottoms onto his peachy bum.

"I'm into you because I love a naughty boy." Danny's voice was lower, softer, not quite polished but not in it's natural Bolton form. Danny's hands slid up Tom's body to his waist, and his crotch lowered onto Tom's bum. "Do you like that, Tom?"

Tom could already feel the comfortable warmth of arousal spreading through him. "Yes, sir." he affirmed, pushing his bum closer to Danny.

* * *

I will not record the exact actions following this little exchange. Needless to say, it was more than X-Rated. At the end of it, the two young men collapsed sweatily against each other on Danny's bed, Tom in his pyjama top and nothing more and Danny in nothing at all. Tom's usually pale, creamy cheeks (not those ones!) were flushed red, and a splatter of something..._suspect_ lay across his back. Danny looked like a totally different man, more powerful, more courageous.

"Do you know how I make myself feel powerful before a big speech, Fletcher?" Danny smoothly asked, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

"How?" Tom asked, still panting a little.

"I George Orwell [remember, classic authors] a hot guy beforehand...thanks, mate, I'm ready to go now."

Suddenly, Danny stood up and reached for his clothes. Tom made no movement – he was staring, slack jawed, at Danny. "You mean...you did that just so that you'd feel good on stage?"

Danny chuckled. "Of course I did, Fletcher. Why else woul' I only have hot guys delivered here to work for me? Now come on, ya need to come with me in case I need anythin' at the press conference I have."

Heavily, Tom sighed. "You are an awful, awful person, Danny."

Danny turned around, a small smile playing on his lips. "What makes you say that?"

"You _used _me."

"That's what life's all about, Tom. You use, you get used. You need to learn how to play along."


	6. Chapter 6

**I am literally astonished at how many reviews this has had after only 5 chapters! I really love you all! Just to let you know, I'm almost at 50k words which was my aim for this project, but I am not finished with the story yet, so it might be about 55k words when I'm done! Big thanks to kbeto just for being gorgeous!**

* * *

_Dear mum, dad and Carrie,_

_I really hope that you're not worrying about me. I know I haven't written a week, and I was snatched from the cellar, but I'm absolutely fine – just very, very busy. I'm the personal assistant of Danny Jones now, and I've even been on TV with him (only briefly). If you want to reassure yourselves that I'm okay and that you shouldn't worry – and I know you will, because you're incredibly caring people and I couldn't wish for a better family – I'm going to be making a short speech on Danny's behalf tomorrow on Channel 7 at 7:00 in the evening, as Danny wants to show everyone that he is 'impacting lives'. I didn't get to write my script, but I'm going to sneak in a couple of lines at the end to you three and my other friends, so don't worry. Please don't worry. I am fine, I promise you._

_How is everything down there since I left? I have heard that the Leadership have put in a new law that is prohibiting recreational music playing unless supervised by a member of the Leadership. I think they might be searching homes to take away any instruments. I think it's a horrible law – music has always meant so much to all of us, it seems ridiculous to try and take it away. Thank goodness that they're not trying to take away things like tapes and CD's as well. Danny disagrees with the law himself, but his government are all for it so he has had to go with it. I hope that you don't think badly of Dan himself for it, as he has honestly fought every step of the way to get rid of this law._

_I miss you all so, so much. I can't wait to get home and see you all!_

_Lots of love,_

_Tom xxx_

* * *

Tom was absolutely terrified to do the speech on _national television_. It was pretty simple stuff, really – just talking about how wonderful Danny was (which was slightly sickeningly sweet, but when he'd asked if he could write his own speech he had been flatly denied) and how he loved working for him (which was true, though the hot/cold relationship that Danny had with everyone including Tom was tiring to say the least). However, whenever he practised, he stumbled on his words.

"I think Danny is an aspiring- damn! I meant inspiration! I think Danny is an _inspiration _to all of us, and should be disregarded...oh christ...should be _regarded _as a King, instead of just a Prime Minister."

Danny laughed from his position on his bed. "You're hopeless, Tom."

Tom flung himself onto his own single bed in frustration. "I KNOW! I just can't get it right, Dan!"

"Don't worry, Tom. It'll all be okay."

Tom turned to Danny and gave him a glimmering smile, before standing up once more. "Can you test me on the last fifty words? I think I've got them down, but I'm not quite sure."

Seconds later, the door of Danny's room crashed open, silencing Tom.

"Danny, you've got to come quick – people in Sector Two are rebelling against the music laws. We tried to take the guitar of one man, and he managed to knock out one of our workers. People are rioting." The panicked worker spoke hastily, as if a slow word could kill him.

I must now interject to remind the reader of Danny's cruelty at the beginning of this sorry manuscript, especially towards Tom. Do not think that he has suddenly changed for the better because of Tom. He was simply a very manipulative man, or so it appeared.

"Shoot them." Danny simply said, turning back to Tom.

"I...I think you might want to see who the man is." the worker nervously suggested.

"Ugh, fine." Danny sighed petulantly before following the worker, beckoning Tom as he went.

* * *

"That's my dad!" Tom squeaked when he saw the footage on the small screen.

"Your dad?" Danny asked, looking surprised. Tom nodded.

"Please don't shoot him – oh god, please don't shoot him." Tom moaned, his candy-apple brown eyes closing of their own accord. Danny laid a warm arm on Tom's shoulder, pulling the older man closer to him.

"Don't worry, Tom, we won't shoot him."

"Oh, Danny, thank you so-"

"We'll do something else instead."

Tom slowly opened his eyes, looking straight at Danny. "What do you mean, something else?"

The smile that formed on Danny's lips was so sinister that Tom was forcibly reminded of the Danny he had hated, the man full of harsh words and slaps.

"He can come here and take your old place as a worker." Danny quietly said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if thoughts were pushing them closed. Tom audibly sighed with relief, refusing the acknowledge that every other time he had heard Danny's voice take on its polished quality, something bad had happened.

"What about my mum and my sister?" Tom said, slipping his own arm around Danny.

"They'll be perfectly fine. They will receive you and your father's wages still, and your mum works, doesn't she?"

Tom nodded. He hadn't particularly meant how they would cope financially – he was more concerned about how they would cope without not only Tom himself, but also his warm, loving father, who was pretty much the backbone of their household.

"Tom, don't worry." Danny gave Tom a smile which made the blonde's cheeks burn red.

"Will my dad be sharing a room with James, then?" Tom asked, still thinking hard about how his family would be split firmly down the middle. Danny licked his yellowish teeth, and Tom was certain that he saw a chink in the man's armour.

"James isn't currently working here."

"Did he go home again, then?" Tom's face lit up at the thought of his friend back where he belonged, at home.

"No...he's currently being punished for his role in you two running away." Danny's face was utterly composed, a terrifying feature of many villains. No matter how extreme the situation, they can remain calm and collected. Of course, this isn't true for all terrible people – some work themselves into a frenzy and attack, like the Leadership members that I am currently hiding from.

"Punished?" Tom's voice hardened, and grew demanding.

"Yes, punished." Danny affirmed.

"Well, stop punishing him! You didn't punish me!" Tom's voice grew a little higher in pitch.

"I can't jus' _stop_...he'd spread stories abou' me, I'd lose public support..." Danny turned to Tom, making his eyes widen in a way that made him look like a puppy. His voice had gone back to Bolton. "Tom, you have to understand. You're the only one that _ever _understands..."

* * *

"Hey, Tom." James' voice sounded oddly cheerful considering the circumstances of their meeting. Just ten minutes after Danny accidentally revealing to Tom the conditions in which James was staying, Tom had convinced the younger but ultimately more powerful man that he _needed _to see James.

"James...I'm so sorry. I didn't realise that you were here."

It was a tiny, cramped room which stank of human waste. It contained James, who was naked nary a pair of boxer shorts, and a drain on the floor which was supposed to serve as a toilet.

"Won't Danny let me out now that you know?"

Tom bit his lip. "I'll make him let you out. I...oh god, I hate myself. I can't say sorry enough."

James looked up from his uncomfortable position on the filthy tiled floor. "If you get me out within an hour, you'll be forgiven. Damn, for a hot shower I'd forgive anyone for anything."

"I'm only allowed a couple of minutes with you, but I swear, I'll get you out."

The door swung open slowly: there stood a worker. In his right hand was a small bowl filled with mushy boiled vegetables, and in his left a cracked porcelain mug of water. James grabbed them from him, and immediately devoured it as if it were a feast rather than a rather poor little meal.

"Are they feeding you properly?" Tom immediately asked, recognizing the hunger in James' eyes as the hunger in the eyes of the starving. James shook his head between mouthfuls. When he had finished, he looked up at Tom and lightly said,

"That's all I get for a day."

A low groan escaped Tom's lips, full of emotion. Anger, mostly – how could he have forgotten about James? He had just assumed that James would go back to normal work, or that perhaps he hadn't even been found. Not this. Never this.


	7. Chapter 7

**I like this chapter, so I hope that you do as well! Thanks to kbeto for being as sexy as hell!**

* * *

"M-my name is Tom Fletcher, and I'm Danny's personal assistant, close friend and boyfriend." Tom recited, staring over the tops of the heads in the crowd and trying to ignore the titters at his final word. "I am here to talk a little bit today about why Danny is such an amazing leader. He has all of the qualities of a good leader – perseverance, a good sense of humour, loyalty to this great nation – but he also has something more. Danny has a humanity about him which makes him so, so approachable."

Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies.

Tom felt a ball of hatred towards himself bubble up inside of him, ready to blow. When he had asked Danny about James, James had been let out. To immediately be imprisoned in another room as he wasn't 'trustworthy'. Certainly, his food allowance was increased, and he now had access to a shower, but it wasn't exactly optimal conditions.

"That is why we should celebrate our new leader, Danny Jones! I know though that none of us would be here if it wasn't for family. I've seen photographs of Danny's wonderful sister Vicky, and his mother. I myself have an amazing family – my mum Debbie, dad Bob and sister Carrie have all influenced me dramatically..."

The speech seemed to pour out of Tom without any effort – after a forced training session from Danny, who was back to being icy-cold, he knew it off by heart. As his final word fell out, the ragtag collection of press, celebrities, Leadership supporters and members of the general public who had come over to see what the kerfuffle was all exploded into applause. Tom was hastily shuffled away by Danny's press team, but was there just long enough to hear a familiar voice.

"Tom!"

The voice pierced the air like a knife, and hit Tom hard enough in the chest that he gathered the power to wrench away from the burly press team and towards the crowd. Tearing through the vast amount of people was his sister, tiny, blonde and looking terrified. Tom half-climbed, half-tumbled off of the stage and pulled her into his arms, hugging her for a second before pushing her back and nervously asking,

"What's wrong?"

"T-they took dad and...and mum went into a shop and she never came out..." she sobbed, her chest heaving. "Y-you said you'd be here, so I came..."

Tom held his sister, knowing in that moment that this was all down to Danny.

* * *

"Danny, I am going home to look after my sister and if you think you're stopping me you're wrong." Tom bravely stated, one arm still tightly around his little sister (the press team hadn't argued with Tom bringing her back – crying eleven year old girls aren't particularly intimidating to huge, muscular men and women).

"Why would I stop you?" Danny laughed. Tom stared at him, confused.

"Because I'm your boyfriend?" Tom suggested. "Because you've kicked up such a huge fuss when I've tried to leave before? Because you almost killed James for trying to leave?"

A smirk crossed Danny's freckled face. "You were never my boyfriend, Tom – that's just a publicity ploy." The posh voice had returned.

"What about...what about everything?" Tom demanded, rage beginning to fill him. He could feel himself shaking a little bit with anger, and he just knew that his face was going red. Carrie sat totally still, obviously trying not to disturb either of the teen boys.

Danny laughed. A loud, sarcastic laugh. "I have another one like you now, Tom. If you leave, it won't matter. I would suggest for your parents sake that you don't leave, though."

Tom and Carrie's necks both snapped up. "You wouldn't hurt our parents." Tom harshly said, fear washing through him.

"How do you know that I haven't already?"

In that moment, Tom despised Danny. From his springy brown hair to his pale, freckled feet, Tom truly could not stand him. The light tone of voice. The conversational way he threatened their family. All Tom wanted in that moment was to see Danny six feet under. Of course, the time will come, but not right now.

* * *

"Tom, why would he be your boyfriend? He's awful!" Carrie whispered as the two made their way to Tom and James' old room, which they were now going to share with their parents until Danny 'found a use' for them.

"It's complicated, Carrie. I mean...I think I love him. But I hate him as well. He can be so kind and sweet and funny, but he can also be a complete and utter idiot. He's either really passionate and engaged or really cold and bitter." Tom spoke slowly, as if unsure of his own quiet words.

"Why don't you date someone who is kind and sweet and funny all of the time, instead of half the time? Someone like James, or Dougie that you sold the bass to...anyone like that." There was a note of surprise on Carrie's little-girly voice, as if she couldn't quite believe the idea hadn't occurred to Tom. Tom laughed.

"Carrie, have you ever been in love?" he asked, fairly certain that the answer was no.

"Justin from NSYNC is cute, and H from Steps." she replied, nibbling her lip as a rosy colour tinged her cheeks.

"I mean truly in love. So that you feel that every moment away from them is a moment wasted, and that every moment with them is heaven. So that clocks feel like they stop when you're with them."

Carrie stared thoughtfully at her feet as they walked, obviously thinking hard. Eventually, she shook her head and admitted, "No, I don't think I've been in love. I _have _loved people, though. I love Justin, and H. I'm just not _in _love with them. It's not the eye in the storm of my life."

Tom had to take a moment to stand still and look at his sister, utterly thrown by her philosophical statement. He hadn't exactly expected that. "That's...wow..." he finally managed to choke out.

"Well, of course there's a difference between loving someone and being in love with them!" Carrie insisted, walking a little slower so that her brother could catch up. "I love you, and mum, and dad, but I'm not _in _love with you. That'd be weird!" Carrie laughed again, and Tom was glad to hear her laugh. Since the Leadership, she had been less interested in laughing and more interested in helping her parents to conceal Tom in the cellar, or visiting the people who had had instruments taken away and helping them to make makeshift instruments from blocks of wood, sparse remaining guitar strings and carving tools.

"Carrie, I sometimes think that you're a lot older than me, even though you are seven years younger." Tom commented, as they finally reached the door. Sure enough, one of the Leadership workers was waiting there to let them in. Unlike when James and Tom had shared a room, there were multiple locks and bolts on the door.

"Tom! I didn't realise it was _you _that he's putting in here!" the worker exclaimed. Tom looked a little closer and realised that it was Matt, a fairly kind worker who he had had a couple of chats with about music before himself and Danny had 'fallen out'.

"Yeah, me and my little sister."

"I'm in charge of just this room, because the people in it aren't considered 'trustworthy'. I get the food for them and everything...now that I know you're in here, I'll make sure to slip something nice onto the food trays and get you some extra blankets."

Tom grinned, as did Carrie. "Thanks, mate."

Matt nodded, before unbolting and unlocking the door. They were ushered in speedily, before the door was closed and locked again.

* * *

"Oh, Carrie...I'm so sorry I left you in the middle of London like that!"

The tiny room was little changed from when Tom and James had been there, except for the fact that another bunk bed had been crammed in beside the first one, so close that if one of the mattresses was pushed over it could function as a double bed.

"Mum, don't worry – you could hardly help it, could you?" Carrie's response seemed to crack Debbie up, and she dissolved into tears. Bob, meanwhile, was hugging Tom as hard as he could.

"I didn't think the work here was that bad, from your letters...I can't believe I didn't realise..." he choked out, arms still firmly around his son. Tom chuckled and hugged his father back, glad of the soft warmth and the warm, musky smell which reminded him painfully of home. Their house was empty now, except for the cats and the dog. Presumably, someone would sort them out – the cats were probably outside and so if no one came to feed them, they could hunt. If not...Tom shuddered a little.

"Dad, it's okay. Honestly. Now that all four of us are together, I think it'll be better."

Tom heard a sudden clunk, and grinned, "The food'll be here in a moment!"

"How do you know?" Carrie asked.

"That noise."

Sure enough, moments later the food slot opened and two trays dropped in side-by-side, which Debbie handed to her children, followed by two more. The fare was pretty much the usual – soggy vegetables, a little wedge of bluish cheese, a glass of water and an apple – but there was something usual sat on each tray. A small, perfect chunk of glossy brown chocolate.

"Thank god for Matt..." Tom rejoiced, holding up his chunk. "He's put these here for us."


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm not the biggest fan of this chapter, but please remember that I wrote the entire 50k story in 20 days for NaNoWriMo...if there are 'unplotty' chapters, it's not my fault! Well, it is my fault, but I decided to do NaNo on November 1st without any planning, so I think it's impressive I finished at all! As ever, huge thanks to every single reviewer, especially my main man kbeto.**

* * *

Tom had honestly expected the small family to be imprisoned 24/7, left to their own devices in the morning. As such, he wasn't expecting the sirens to blast off the next morning at what was presumably 7:30. In the night, a note had fallen through the food slot.

'_All four of you will be working today – the men will be doing some manual labour, the women for Danny himself, cleaning and such. Don't worry, I'll look out for you all. -Matt.'_

Groaning, the four Fletcher's exited their warm, if not comfortable beds and went to change into their day clothes. At one point the previous evening, when Debbie was in the middle suggesting that they save a little bit of food each day, in case they needed to escape, the foot slot had opened and four little parcels had slipped through. Tom had felt sick to see Danny's familiar, wobbly script on them, writing a name on each. Inside each was a set of pyjamas, three full sets of underwear (in navy, brown and grey - the brown ones made Carrie laugh and ask if they were second hand), a set of day clothes and a chunk of the strange, sharp soap that was provided.

* * *

"You must be Tom's mother and sister. What a pleasure to meet you!" Danny's voice was the clean, smooth one that he had practised for so long to perfect for the public.

"Why have you taken us all here?" Carrie immediately asked, her shoulders hunched with anger upon seeing the man.

Danny gave her what he assumed was a reassuring smile, but just showed off a lot of his peg-like teeth, yellowish but nicely shaped. "Your dad is here because Tom tried to escape, your mum is here because your dad and Tom both requested it, an' you're here because you were wi' Tom." The Bolton accent had returned strongly – the one telltale symptom present when Danny experienced an emotion. In that moment, it was anger, much like when I myself met Danny and I happened to be quite sarcastic to him. Of course, Danny could also apply his accent to sound kinder, and more common, when he wished to.

"When can we go home?" she demanded.

"In a few months." Danny immediately replied, cracking his knuckles. "Now, you need t' clean this room fro' top to bottom – throw away any rubbish, clean the surfaces, that stuff. I'll be back in six hours."

Sweeping from the room, Carrie couldn't resist giving the middle finger to his back. Debbie, who normally would have been aghast at such behaviour from her youngest, but instead just smiled and patted her on the shoulder.

"What do we have to clean with?" Carrie asked her mother once Danny was out of her eyeline, glancing at the small pile of products on the floor. Debbie briefly looked them over.

"Bin bags, water, soap, a couple of dusters and a vacuum."

Carrie stared around the huge, messy room, and groaned.

* * *

"I _think _we're done!" Debbie grinned, staring around the room. It was one in the afternoon, and neither of the Fletcher females had stopped to even take a sip of water or a bite of lunch in all that time. Their reward was a spare hour before Danny returned and an extremely clean room. Now, they flopped onto the floor and picked up the trays of food that had been left for them, noting that instead of chocolate, like had been left last dinner, or slices of fresh white bread like at breakfast, there was a small cube of cake on each tray.

"Mum, I found something that I think you should see."

Carrie had (correctly) guessed that Danny's room wouldn't have microphones laced through it. Fishing in her pocket, she produced a small book with Danny's full name embossed on the front in gold. Each page was a smooth dark violet colour, and the ink swirling across it in messy handwriting was white. She carefully flicked it to the correct page and showed it to Debbie.

"Oh my god..." Debbie quaked, staring at the words. "Oh...my...god."

* * *

When the four were all once more in the room (and Tom and Bob had scrubbed the thick layer of filth from their bodies that tends to accompany cleaning the inside of chimneys with hoses and long brushes) Carrie off-handedly removed the book from her pocket and tossed it to Tom, the correct page marked. Once she had made the 'singing into a microphone' action to remind him of the multitude of microphones in the wall, he nodded and opened it to the marked page.

_I know I should send Tom's family back home, and apologize to Tom. I know I should. I miss him so much, from his stupid little puns to him in bed. I just don't think I'm brave enough to apologize to him when he will probably flatly refuse to accept it. I love him. I really, truly love him. The real leaders of this stupid government don't want us to see each other, though, so maybe we shouldn't. All I know is that I love Tom, and I wish I was actually in charge of what is going on so that I could try and save them from the demise._

"Have you seen the date?" Debbie asked, pretending to be busy with the biography on Danny Jones that she had in her hands.

Tom glanced at the scrawled date: it had been written that very morning.

"I need to speak to him." Tom put forth, before evenly walking to the door and beginning to pound hard on it, shouting Matt's name. After a minute or so, the door opened slightly.

"I have to speak to Danny. I have to." Tom demanded.

"I can't let you go...but- oh no, you're escaping!"

Tom stared at Matt for a moment, confused as to why he had suddenly shouted that. Then he understood, and began to sprint down the corridor on the memorised route to Danny's room. Usually, the distance felt fairly short and unimportant. Now, it was neverending, as his long legs stretched out over and over again, seeking the man.

* * *

"My family found your journal." Tom began, chucking the small book at the startled Danny. "I love you, I accept your apology (even though you haven't made it yet) and I want to know what's going on. What's the demise?"

Danny looked quietly up at Tom for a moment. "Sit down on my bed and we can talk."

Tom sat down, looking insistently at Danny, who sighed.

"I was made the public leader of th'a Leadership because I'm pretty, and I had – what do you call them – electrocution lessons when I was younger."

"Elocution." Tom grinned, appreciating the fact that Danny had allowed himself to slip back into Bolton mode.

"I don't have _anythin' _to do with tha' way this country is lead. If I say no, they'll kill me, or...do other things..."

"Who will kill you, Dan - or whatever else they do?" Tom asked, very gently taking Danny's hands into his.

"The _real _Leadership."

A tear rolled down Danny's cheek, making Tom loosen one of his hands from Danny's and wipe it away softly.

"Everything you've seen of me so far Tom, that's fake. I'll be real wid'y'a from now on, but you have to help me." desperately plead Danny.

"How can I help you?"

"I need ya to do what I tell you, when I tell you. None of your family will have to work any more – I'll even get them to bring your dog and cats up, and move you into a proper room – but you need to do what I tell you to." The tears truly were rolling now, leaving tracks on Danny's cheeks that showed just how heavy the makeup that was applied to him before every public appearance was. You couldn't even see his freckles under it.

"Of course I will, Dan. As long as you're completely honest with me from now on."

Danny nodded, before tilting his head slightly and moving in to kiss Tom. Tom felt sparks fly through him, and his knees literally felt weak as he kissed back, moving a hand to Danny's waist. Before very long, they were back to the same old positions, doing the same old, X-Rated things.


	9. Chapter 9

**This one goes out to the gorgeous, funny, sweet, talented, all around great person that is kbeto, who has had a rough week. I wasn't going to update until Tuesday GMT but I thought kbeto needed cheering up...go and send him love if you can!**

* * *

Surprise can be extremely pleasant. For example, if you open a letter and find a large sum of paper money inside and a note telling you that it is from a rich old auntie who wants you to have a good summer, that is delightful. However, if you go to pay for something with the notes and you find out that they were actually fraudulently produced on a mountain in Switzerland and were planted by your enemies to get you into trouble with the police, that is a rather sickening surprise.

It was the former type of surprise that the Fletcher family felt when they entered their new living quarters.

"Sorry that it's not very big, but I wanted a room directly beside mine so that i' wouldn't be wired with microphones. This is as good as I could do." Danny's voice was apologetic, but the Fletcher's were too astounded with the room to say anything.

"It's...it's perfect, Danny." Carrie murmured. Once Tom had explained everything to the rest of his family, they had accepted Danny as a mop-haired tool that could necessitate their escape – Tom hoped that eventually they would accept him like another family member. Tom wasn't sure quite what made him trust Danny as he did, even after everything, but he did. It was something about him that had drawn him to him even after all of their trouble.

The room was almost as big as Danny's, with the walls painted a fresh lemon colour. A double bed sat in one corner, and a bunk bed in the corner opposite. There was a small kitchen area, complete with tea making facilities, and a living space with vast, soft sofa's. A door lead to a sparklingly clean little bathroom with a deep bathtub.

"Thank you so much, Dan." Tom quivered, shocked to silence with happiness. Danny leant in and kissed Tom gently on the lips.

"I like ya a lot, Tom. You don't need to thank me."

* * *

"If you 'fainted' in the middle of a speech and didn't relay the news of some stupid new rule, they could hardly punish you, could they?" Tom queried as he lay with Danny. The two were brainstorming, occasionally taking a break to kiss or check that the rest of Tom's family (now complete with their cats and dog) were okay in Tom's room.

"They've punished me for less." Danny regretfully said. For a moment, he felt conflicted, as if unsure if he should do something. However, after a moment a certain look crossed his face and he rolled over, pulling his shirt up as he did. Crossing his back were long, thin purple scars, as well as the occasional weal or cut. It looked violently painful, and Tom winced at it. It was as if Danny had been in a car crash.

"How did that happen?" Tom asked, very gently running a cold finger over the mess that was Danny's back.

"Punishment." Danny confessed, before tugging his T-shirt down to cover them once more. When he rolled over, he was immediately greeted by Tom's warm arms.

"Danny, I'm gonna stay with you all the time. They'll never hurt you again."

Danny laughed, a bitter, harsh laugh. "They'll find a way, Tom. They always do."

* * *

Tom much preferred this new, gentle, daft Danny to the hot and cold man that he had known before. He discovered, to his great delight, that Danny loved music and could play the guitar excellently. He also found that Danny was a complete idiot when he let go, constantly hitting his head on things by accident or making ridiculous verbal slip-ups. He was rather adorable, really.

"Tom?"

"Yeah, Dan?"

"I am so, so sorry that I hit you." Danny's face was pink with embarrassment.

"Danny, you've apologised like ten times. You can stop, you know." Tom smiled. "Anyway, it didn't hurt, you wuss."

Within moments the two were play-wrestling on the floor, rolling around like two small children. In a moment of strength, Danny managed to overpower Tom and kneel either side of his stomach, trapping him.

"Admit it, I'm stronger than you!" giggled Danny, clamping Tom's hands to the soft shag carpeting.

"Never!" Tom replied valiantly, pushing his hands up and rolling over onto Danny.

"I _am _stronger!" the squeal that came from Danny sounded more akin to a squeal from a two year old than an almost eighteen year old, but neither commented because they were both laughing so hard that they didn't care. After a moment of laughing, Tom stood up, clutching his stomach with mirth. Danny, still laughing heavily, got up onto his knees, grabbed the leg of Tom's trousers and yanked them down before running into the bathroom and locking himself in. Tears of laughter were dripping down his cheeks, which were flushed to an unnatural shade of red.

"Danny! Get out of that bathroom or I'll break in!" Tom shouted, his voice cracked with amusement.

"You're gonna kill me either way!" Danny replied. He felt a mixture of horror and happiness when he saw a ruler poke through the door underneath the bolt and wriggle around, working the bolt open before he could do anything. The door opened and Tom leapt on top of him, knocking them both to the floor. Then they began to kiss, their lips meeting hungrily. Once or twice in your life, you will meet someone and you will feel as if you are incomplete without them. One way of expressing this is to show physical affection – hugging, kissing, that type of thing. In that moment, both Tom and Danny were sure that without each other they would be incomplete.

* * *

"Yes."

"_No._"

"Yes!"

"No!"

Tom glared at Danny, not quite believing what he was being asked to do.

"Tom, you've gotta do it – everyone knows my face, hardly no one knows yours."

Tom smiled briefly at his boyfriend's bad grammar before drawing up to his full height and firmly declaring, "No. I won't do it and you can't make me."

Danny's request was simple: sneak into the real brains behind the Leadership's office and steal an envelope of very important papers. Without these papers, the Leadership would have no leg to stand on, as they contained every detail of their ultimate plan, labelled the 'demise'.

"Danny, I know you want me to, and I know the papers do need to go missing, but I just can't steal."

"Why?" Danny asked, looking curiously at the blonde man, who's nineteenth birthday was just around the corner. Tom shook his head, and his eyes gained a curious dreamy quality. Memories came flooding back.

* * *

"_Tom, if you're going to carry on hanging around with us, you need to have some money when we go out. You can't keep on sponging off of us." The brunet nine year old stood powerfully in front of the smaller, skinnier blonde, hands on hips._

"_I don't HAVE any money, though!" Tom replied, nibbling on his lip. Pete was a new friend of his, who came complete with a little gang of boys ranging in age from seven to twelve. Every Saturday morning, the little group would head into town and spend a few pounds on sweets and comics and other things that little boys want._

"_You need to get some." Pete declared. "Or you can't be friends with us."_

_All of a sudden, an idea popped into Tom's head, one so terrible that he visibly winced. His mind wandered to the small piggy bank full of silver change in the hallway, kept topped up for bus fares and emergencies. Surely a few coins wouldn't be missed..._

"_I'll have some for Saturday." Tom promised, a knot of worry beginning to form in his stomach._

* * *

"_Tom, I've just got to pop out for ten minutes. You'll be okay by yourself, won't you?" Debbie asked as she busily stamped and addressed envelopes. She worked with children with special needs at a primary school, and was in the midst of organising a trip for them._

"_I'll be fine, mum!" Tom immediately responded, his plan refilling his head. Ten minutes would be more than enough time to take what he needed, he hoped._

_Debbie stood up, a thick wad of letters in her hands. "I love you, Tom. You're such a good boy."_

_Although Tom had not yet put his plan into action, a sour feeling of guilt filled him immediately. He wasn't a good boy, not at all. As soon as Debbie was out of the door, Tom dashed into the hall and picked up the piggy bank with fumbling fingers. The plastic cap that sealed the hole in the bottom was already loose, and came off without any trouble. Immediately, a couple of coins dropped loose, clattering in a manner that felt almost deafening in Tom's ears. He picked them up, well too aware that he was trembling badly. He had about two pounds in his hands – this was before the financial reform and the introduction of credits and other stupid currencies – when he suddenly heard the front door open. His mum was back already! He had mere seconds to close the piggy bank, put it away and close the drawer it was kept in before she would open the porch door and see that he was stealing. Tom rammed the lid in and almost threw the ceramic pig into the cupboard, slamming it shut just as Debbie entered._

"_What are you doing out in the hall, love?" she asked, as Tom plunged his coin filled hands into his hoodie pocket, depositing the sweaty coins there._

"_I-I heard the door – you said you were going to be ten minutes, so I wondered who it was..." Tom stuttered, biting his lip down hard. His breath was heavy and ragged, and he was shaking terribly._

"_I forgot a couple of letters, that's all. I'll just pop back out again."_

_Debbie planted a sweeping kiss onto Tom's head before grabbing the other two envelopes and leaving once more._

* * *

His family never had realised that money was missing, though Tom had never forgotten the incident. He almost wished that he had been caught and punished – maybe then he wouldn't feel so damn guilty.

"Danny, I need to do something. If it works like I hope it will, I'll be able to do it. If it doesn't, then I can't and I won't."

Danny nodded, curiosity filling him as Tom quietly left their now shared room and entered the adjacent family room.

"Mum, dad, I need to tell you something." Tom nervously said, knowing that to beat around the bush would be pointless.

"What's wrong?" Bob asked, immediately looking up from the book he was reading. Carrie was sprawled on the floor with a magazine, and Debbie was making a cup of tea. All three turned to look closely at Tom.

"When I was nine I stole two pounds from the change piggy bank to spend when I went out with Pete and his lot." Tom mumbled all in one breath. There was a moment of silence before Debbie laughed.

"Why are you telling us now, ten years on?"

"Because I feel guilty."

Debbie and Bob glanced at each other, eyes full of pride at their moral, if rather strange, son.

"You don't need to feel guilty now. I mean, when you were in Oliver you insisted that we take some of your money because we weren't doing very well at the time. It was your pay that kept us afloat – and you did the same with your job here and the one before that, you gave us some money. That more than makes up for two flipping pounds, Tom." Debbie smiled at her son, and all three other people laughed at the expression of relief on Tom's face. Evidently, deep set guilt from a decade previously had vanished.

* * *

"I can do it." Tom announced as he entered the room, causing a great big grin to break out across Danny's face, and his clear blue eyes to light up. He jumped up and ran to Tom, yanking him into a tight hug.

"Thank you!" he exclaimed. After a moment, however, he pulled back from Tom. "You need to do it now. They're out now."

Tom's eyes widened. "Today?"

"Right now."

Tom took a deep breath, his chest rising stiffly. "Okay. Where's their office?"

Hastily, Danny poured out instructions on how to access their office, speaking relatively quietly as he did – even though his room wasn't bugged, you could never be too careful. Sucking in his breath, Tom nodded.

"Okay. I...I can do it."

"Tom, one last thing." Danny's voice was serious, but still warm and Bolton sounding.

"What?" Tom asked, biting his lip.

"I love ya."

The words made a red blush stain Tom's cheeks: it was the first time either of them had used the 'l' word.

"I love you too."

* * *

Following Danny's instructions, Tom reached a narrow red door, with a large private sign hanging on it. Touching the handle gently, however, caused the door to open a little. Tom held his breath as he pushed it open further, peeking inside, just in case someone was there and Danny had made a grave error. Danny had given him an excuse to give if someone happened to be there – he simply had to say that he'd been sent by Danny to collect a 'V' file, which was apparently some mundane file that Danny had to read once every couple of months.

"Red envelope, red envelope..." Tom muttered, fear filling him so suddenly and violently that he was briefly frozen to the spot. However, he managed to grab hold of reality and move a little to the side, his eyes still scanning everywhere. A smile split his face when he saw an A4 envelope, with 'PRIVATE' scrawled across the front much in the same way as it was on the door. That must be it!

"Looking for something?"

Damn.

Tom turned around, dread filling him painfully. "I-I was l-looking for the V file...No one was here so I had to look..."

The person standing in the doorway was not exactly what Tom had envisioned when Danny had described the true Leadership. They were at least six foot five, with long, muscular legs and a small waist. Tom's eyes moved upwards and found an extremely attractive female face – wide, pearly grey eyes, a straight nose and perfectly average sized lips, all framed by a tumble of dark brown hair.

"That's strange, because I personally handed Danny his V file yesterday." she replied, her eyes staring directly into Tom's.

"Oh! Well, maybe he just forgot...I'll be on my way, then..." Tom mumbled, trying desperately to edge around the intimidating woman. A hard hand was thrust onto his shoulder.

"Not so fast. You've been caught breaking and entering into a government office. You have to be questioned, it's due procedure."

Tom tried desperately not to stare directly at the small yet pert pair of breasts that were being thrust dangerously close to his face. "Can...can Danny be there when I am?" Tom's voice cracked halfway through the sentence, and his old guilt returned like a gushing river.

"I think some one on one interrogation with me would be more...effective." The grim woman smiled, moved her hand to the small of Tom's back and propelled him back into the room. "I'm Soldier Miller, by the way, Jaida Miller."

* * *

"Name?" Soldier Miller's voice sounded almost bored.

"Tom Fletcher."

A heavy sigh.

"_Full _name?"

"O-oh! Thomas Michael Fletcher." Tom twisted his fingers nervously together, trying to stop himself from shaking and blushing quite so much.

"Why are you in the complex?"

"I was picked for compulsory work, but then myself and Danny Jones began dating."

Soldier Miller laughed. "Yeah, I heard about you two. Nice little set up for you and your family!"

Tom, who was unsure whether she was being complimenting or scornful, stayed quiet.

"Why were you in my office?"

"Danny asked me to collect the V file." Tom spoke with an abundance more confidence than he felt.

"I think you were looking for something else. I think you were looking for a private file." Soldier Miller's voice was hard, and while Tom would never admit it to anyone, it absolutely petrified him.

"No, I wasn't!" Tom spoke with as much indignation as he could muster.

Soldier Miller's eyes narrowed, and she drew her face closer to Tom's. "You're lying."

Tom hesitated for a moment too long before exclaiming, "No, I'm not!"

"I sentence you to eight lashes in front of the entire population of the complex. Judgement passed." Soldier Miller began to write in a small book in front of her. Tom could see that it was filled with names, punishments and signatures. Even upside down he could pick out sentences like 'Twenty lashes', '8 months imprisonment', 'Four years of deportation'.

"L-lashes?" Tom trembled, hoping beyond hope that the word didn't mean what it did back in history lessons at school.

"Hits with a whip. Ask your precious boyfriend all about it."

Tom's mind flashed back to the afternoon when he had seen those terrible wounds on Danny's back – that was going to happen to him!

* * *

"No way! No. Bloody. Way. They aren't gonna do that to ya!" Danny was absolutely fuming, a storm raging in his gentle eyes.

"They've done it to you." Tom replied, his eyes sad and hollow. Danny looked taken aback.

"Yeah, but they're not gonna do it to you when we can stop it!"

"Dude, we've just got a note telling us we all need to go out in front of the complex in ten minutes. What else will it be for? I'm just going to have to cope with it." Tom's voice was full of sorrow.

"You don't understand how much it hurts." Danny stated. Gently, he slipped his hands up the back of Tom's shirt and ran his fingers over the warm, undamaged flesh.

"What are you doing?" Tom asked, curiosity overtaking depression.

"Takin' a last feel of ya back before they ruin it."

Tom laughed. "Don't worry, Danny. Everything will work out in the end."

* * *

When the two walked outside, hand in hand, they saw that almost everyone in the complex was already gathered around a temporary stage that had been erected. On it was a post, a pile of ropes and the terrible figure of Soldier Miller, looming above them all.

"Ah, finally here!" she boomed, pointing one elongated finger towards Tom. Tom winced, and winced again when he saw that his family had been ushered to the very front of the crowd. They would see absolutely everything. "Come up here, Fletcher."

Danny gave Tom's fingers a final squeeze, finally accepting that he would not be able to stop Tom's punishment.

"This..._man_...was caught in my office, trying to steal valuable papers to do with our loyal leader, Danny Jones. He refused to say whether they were for himself or Danny, so I was forced to sentence him to eight lashes."

Other soldiers stood at the edges of the stage: there was no possible means of escape for Tom. Dumbly (in this sense of the word, without speaking), Tom walked right up to Soldier Miller. In the audience, he heard a shout and glanced down to see Debbie being restrained by two soldiers, both of whom looked upset with themselves.

"Fletcher, move closer to the post and place your wrists on the top of it."

It was like an awful, violent pantomime. Tom obeyed her, and within seconds she had deftly bound him to it. Then he heard a loud crack, and turned around to see Soldier Miller whipping a long, scary looking whip through the air. A gasp ran through the audience – while the compulsory workers and other civilians living in the complex were aware of the new laws that meant police officers and judges could sentence whippings instead of prison sentences (supposedly a law by Danny to encourage less crimes), none had been publicly carried out thus far at the complex. A few had been done in private, but never in public.

A hand touched Tom's back gently, before grabbing his T-shirt and ripping it up unceremoniously, the leather of their glove stinging as it tore across his back. Then, a moment of silence.

_Whhh-cha!_

For a second, Tom felt nothing. Then he felt awful, unimaginable pain, so excruciating that I am at a loss to describe it. Imagine the worst pain you have ever felt. Now imagine that times a thousand, and you won't even come close to the horror of that moment. Tom, however, was determined to stay silent. Though his body jerked forwards, he closed his eyes and kept his mouth shut. He could hear crying from the audience, of more than just his family and Danny. Evidently, there was some public horror.

Tom's thoughts were interrupted by another _whhh-cha!_, which resonated even more loudly across the complex. Still, the blonde managed to hold onto his dignity and not utter a single moan, let alone a shriek or a cry. Then, an awful realisation hit him: he had six more to go. One had felt unbearable. Two was torturous. How could he silently bear another six? However, he forced himself to concentrate on the image in his mind of Danny's back and the clean script in the book that read '20 lashes'. Forcing himself to feel lucky, he braced himself for the next lash.

* * *

When the eight were done, the bottom of Tom's shirt that had fallen down was ripped to shreds and blood was beginning to drip down his back.

"Go to the medical room, they'll sort it out." Soldier Miller instructed, before running her hand down the whip to remove the blood, sending a splatter amongst the crowd. The worst pain was the expression on Carrie's face when some of his blood ended up on her face. Moments after it was done, Danny ran up to the stage and grabbed him, gently hugging him while avoiding his back.

"C'mon, love, let's go to the medical ward. They'll clean it up for you."

With Danny's support, Tom made it down off of the stage and into his parent's arms, who both felt a mixture of fury and misery at his fate.


	10. Chapter 10

**I hope you enjoy! This chapter isn't as...sad as the last one, but there are some moments. Thank you to kbeto for being lovely, and to everyone who has every reviewed any of my stories. Just a sidenote - if you don't ADORE Nurse Smith by the end of this, what's wrong with you?!**

* * *

"Tom, all this is tellin' me is that we need the file even more. I'm not letting you get it – I'll get it." Danny's voice was quiet in the still blackness of the night, and sounded almost as if it was a natural part of the stifling room.

"I'll get it, Dan. I promised you that I'd get it and I failed, so I'll try again." Tom's voice, by contrast, was sharp and abrasive, quite the opposite to his usual sweet tones. It felt almost as if Tom was cutting the night air with a knife, slicing the supposed safety of sleep with his words.

"Tom, I can do it. I'm used to...lashes. You aint. I doubt you could take another eight, or ten, or twenny."

Tom was forcefully reminded of the painful marks on his back, a mixture of weals, cuts and bruises. The whip had done its job well. "Danny, seriously, I can do it. It's the least I can do."

In the warm bed, Danny slipped out a hand and gently pushed it up the back of Tom's pyjama top, resting it on his abused back. His finger were cold and felt pleasant against the hot, healing skin. Tom gave a hiss of relief at the coldness before returning to the topic.

"Please, Dan, let me try and do it."

Danny sighed. "I love ya, Tom. That's why I can't."

"And I love you, and that's why I have to."

"Look, we'll talk tomorrah. Just sleep now, Tom. It'll make ya feel a bit better."

* * *

Tom was fairly certain it wasn't morning, and yet his shoulders were being violently shaken. He was lying on his side to avoid back pain. Blearily, he opened his eyes, and saw Danny looking equally as sleepy but also very frightened next to him. The light was burning brightly.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked, sitting up straight and turning with concern to the shaker. It was his father.

"Carrie is seriously ill...we need to go to a proper hospital."

"I'll go and ask the proper leaders if we can take one of th'a buses – get her to the medical ward first." Danny immediately replied. Sliding out of bed, he suddenly remembered that he slept naked, and froze for a second in front of the two wide-eyed Fletcher's before grabbing a pair of boxers from the floor and yanking them on as he left the room, on his way to see Soldier Miller or perhaps another leader.

"I'll show you where the medical room is." Tom quickly said, stumbling out of bed in his haziness. As he headed to the door that joined his and Danny's room to his family's room, a hand came to his shoulder.

"Tom, about what happened earlier...we know that you're not to blame for it all. You didn't deserve what happened." Bob spoke slowly, as if chastened by unhappiness. Tom looked taken aback.

"Let's concentrate on Carrie right now, and talk later." The younger man managed a small smile at his father, who returned an equally as small smile. Upon entering the room, it was clear that something was drastically wrong. Stretched out on one of the sofas was the small, crumpled figure of Carrie, who's face was ghostly white apart from a small spot on each cheek burning hot and red. Her eyes were too bright, and appeared tearful, and she seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. Debbie was kneeling on the floor beside her, dressed in a pair of baggy, green and white striped pyjamas.

"Let's go to the medical ward, then." Tom suggested, trying his hardest not to look into Carrie's poor little coffee coloured eyes. Bob lifted the child, while Debbie stood on one side, holding her hand and stroking her hair. Tom walked over, intending to guide them to the medical ward, but stopping suddenly beside his little sister.

"Hey, bumface." he smiled, using an old nickname that he had given her when they were very small that they had used interchangeably for each other's names for years.

"Hi, poonose." Carrie's voice was a croak, nothing like its exuberant norm, but the other three were all relieved to hear it come out of her lips, which stuck out like red slugs against her pale face.

* * *

"This little girl needs to go to a proper hospital as soon as possible. It may only be influenza, but I am fairly certain that she needs a drip and some stronger medicines then I have access to." Nurse Smith was in charge of the medical ward at the complex, and it was difficult to tell exactly whether she was on your side or against you. When Tom had turned up with a bleeding back, she had wiped away the blood with a tender touch, carefully treating each wound so that it stopped bleeding. However, when he'd made a cheeky, flirty comment at her, she hadn't hesitated to whack him across the back of his boxers (his jeans were lowered so that she could access the lower wounds) with the ruler she was using at the time to measure the length of the marks.

"Next time you say something like that." she had said, folding her arms, "I'll have you across my knee."

This had made Tom laugh, as well as Danny, which is turn made her give a smile. Even though she was being deadly serious (Danny knew this from experience), she had said it to get a laugh out of him, and to try and make him a bit happier. Of course, good doctors and nurses are always nice, but the best ones are distracting as well as nice. Distraction is often the best painkiller.

"Thank you so much, Nurse." Tom said, with a smile. She turned to him, one hand still gently stroking Carrie's hot forehead.

"Don't forget my threat, young man." she told him, making Tom himself blush beetroot. Moments later, Danny banged the door open loudly, startling them all.

"Soldier Miller says that we can't take one of the buses or one of the drivers at this time in the nigh'." he breathlessly informed them.

"We're going to have to." Bob grimly replied, before Nurse Smith stepped forwards.

"Carrie can probably wait a couple of hours, but that's about it." she told them, before turning to Danny and bellowing, "Excuse me, young man, did you not see the 'knock and wait' sign on the door? No buts, I know you did! I know it's an emergency, but common courtesy doesn't cost a penny! You step right back outside of that door, knock on it and wait for me to let me in, or you'll find yourself standing in that corner!"

Danny fled the room immediately, closing the door behind him. The Fletchers all laughed, including Carrie, who had been awake long enough to witness the entire exchange between the stern woman and the young, regardless man. There was a meek knock at the door. After a few seconds, Nurse Smith gently called,

"Come in!"

Danny entered, blushing hard and staring at his shoes.

"Do you have something to say to not only me, but to the patient in the middle of her medical exam, and her family?" Nurse Smith crisply asked. Danny glanced up and saw that she had picked up her ruler, and gulped before quietly but profusely apologizing, much to the amusement of them all.

"Good boy! Now I don't have to use this!" she smiled, before telling them, "And this child definitely needs hospital. My advice, lad, is to go and take a bus and driver anyway."

* * *

Five minutes later, Danny and the Fletcher family were boarding one of the smaller buses, a driver who also happened to be quite matey with Danny sitting in the driver's seat.

"The nearest hospital is about half an hour away. You just sit tight back there." he called, before revving the engine and beginning the journey. Across the back seat, Carrie was stretched, her head on Debbie's lap and an assortment of pyjama tops, jumpers and a fire blankets that they had on them tucked over her. Bob sat at her feet, leaving no room for Tom or Danny except in front.

"You sit at the front of the bus, love. I think you two might need to have a chat about keeping that Nurse in your good books." Debbie suggested, with a weak smile. Tom obediently loped down to the front of the bus with Danny, and sat down.

"What now?" Tom asked, biting his lip.

"What what now?" Danny replied, confused.

"You stole a bus. What's going to happen?"

Danny chuckled, a dry, humourless chuckle. "Whips, chains...the usual."

"It'd sound kinky if you didn't know the context." Tom's voice, despite his humour filled words, was flat. Danny's laugh at the comment was more genuine than his previous one.

"Maybe we can go back to your old house, stay there." Danny suggested. "I mean, your stuff is all still there..."

"Here are some words that I never thought I'd say: Danny Jones, you are a genius."

"Oi! I am a _complete and utter _genius, thank you very much!" Danny indignantly replied.

"Do you mind if I suggest it to my family after Carrie's been sorted out? They're focused on her right now, and so am I to be honest."

Danny nodded. "Do you really think it's a good idea?"

Tom's confirmation was a soft, sweet kiss on the mouth, gentler than most and yet still firm enough to distinguish it from a peck. "I do."

I'm sad to report that that was the only time Tom said that to Danny above the ground.

* * *

"It's influenza, with a fairly serious secondary infection that is attacking Carrie's nervous system, meaning that she may be feeling extreme pain in odd parts of her body, like her knees or her toes. We've put her on a drip, and administered oral medicine. After a long night of sleep, she'll be okay to go home, along with some medicine to take orally every two hours for a week." The doctor spoke as if he had better things to do than to treat poor Carrie, but the Fletchers and Danny accepted it gratefully.

"Is there a family room where we can stay overnight?" Debbie asked. The doctor sighed heavily before consulting a plastic wallet under one arm.

"There are two beds available in ward H, which is one of the family wards. I can accompany you there now."

The four said goodnight to the already fast asleep Carrie before walking to the small room that was ward H. It had eight beds, six of which were already filled with sleeping bodies.

"Danny had a really good idea, earlier." Tom quietly murmured to his parents. "He suggested that the five of us go back to our house tomorrow, and live there instead of at the complex, at least for a while."

Debbie and Bob turned briefly to each other, before turning back to the two teenage boys and nodding. Then, the four allowed themselves to sleep well in the springy hospital beds, resting with their one true love.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks to kbeto for the sweetiepie review...also, to anyone else, if you haven't heard of kbeto...  
****a) What are you doing with your life?  
****b) GO AND READ HIS STORIES!**

* * *

"Hey, Carrie. How are you doing today?" Danny perched on the edge of the vast, white bed, acutely aware of his grubby boxers and hastily added pyjama bottoms and not a lot else. Debbie, Bob and Tom had nipped off to buy a few clothes and other bits that they would need before they went back home, leaving Carrie in Danny's safe hands (or vice versa, depending on how you looked at it).

"I don't feel like I'm dead any more, which is always a bonus." Carrie cheerfully replied, shovelling a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. Danny laughed – in a lot of ways, she was like a more forthright version of Tom. Just as adorable, too, but in a different way.

"I suppose so..." Danny smiled down at the girl, who had looked so tiny and frail the previous night and now looked pink-skinned and happy. He had a few things to ask the girl, who was just about twelve, and he hoped to get them out then and there. "Carrie, I have a question."

Carrie looked up in alarm. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it."

Danny laughed even louder: that reminded him of himself back when he was twelve. "No, no, nothing like that. I was wondering what you think of...of me and Tom."

"What on earth do you mean?" Carrie asked, grinning.

"Of me and your brother being...y'know..."

"Boyfriends?" Carrie asked. Danny gave a slight nod. "You're lovely, and my brother's pretty cool when he's not being an idiot, so why would I mind? You're just like another idiot brother."

Danny exhaled, thoroughly relieved. That went better than expected. "What d'ya think of this whole situation? Me being basically powerless, your brother bein' whipped, the country fallin' apart...?"

"I think it's all ridiculous. Why can't there just be a vote getting rid of your party – no offence, Danny? I know you don't control anything. They're ridiculous, the ones that do, and they don't deserve to be looking after this country." Carrie frankly replied, continuing to eat cereal and occasionally stopping to rub a sore patch that the medicine hadn't yet touched.

"Y'know, I agree with ya..."

At that moment, the door to the small private room opened. There stood Tom.

"Nurse Smith'd send you out. She's not joking around with that ruler, y'know." Danny commented, a small smile playing on his lips. Tom laughed.

"I'd gathered that by the way you ran out of the room at a hundred miles an hour! You were like the bloody road runner!" Tom snickered, making Danny blush. Seeing the pink of his boyfriend's cheeks, Tom quickly added, "I'd have done the same if I was in your position. Though I probably would have knocked on the door!"

"We don't all have ten years of posh school, Fletcher." Danny told him, reaching out and jokingly swiping him over the head. Tom leapt forward and grabbed Danny, kissing him hard before pushing him up to the wall.

"Um..." The mild voice of Carrie broke through the rather...X-Rated thoughts running through Tom's mind, and the equally as filthy ones in Danny's.

Tom sprang back guiltily. "Sorry, bumface, forgot that you're here."

Carrie laughed.

"Anyway, I came to say that you can change into your clothes again, because mum and dad are down there waiting with a taxi. I'll pop back in in a couple of minutes to get you."

* * *

Meanwhile, everything was not hunky dory back at the complex.

"He disobeyed my orders?" Soldier Miller disbelievingly asked, pushing back from her desk. "He wouldn't dare!"

The junior soldier, a man of fifteen called Malcolm who was highly uncomfortable with the entire situation, nodded slightly. "H-he went with his boyfriend's family to a h-hospital..."

Suddenly, Soldier Miller's hand flew out and struck Malcolm hard across the face. "Well find him and bring him back here!" she roared, her eyes bright with pure, toxic anger.

"C-certainly, miss..."

"I'm a soldier, you repulsive slug!" Soldier Miller's face was puce with fury, and her dark hair looked almost like a storm cloud as it sprang away from her face.

"O-of c-course, Soldier..."

As Malcolm left the room, he made a decision which would change the course of history. He disobeyed Soldier Miller's orders.

* * *

"Danny, you need to listen to me. My name is Malcolm, I'm a soldier at the complex. You're in grave danger. You need to find a hiding place, a proper one." Malcolm hissed as soon as the phone was answered. There was a moment of silence before Danny's voice came down the phone.

"What d'ya mean?"

"Soldier Miller, she wants your blood. She'll kill you now, I'm sure of it."

Another moment of silence. "Malcolm?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Why are ya tellin' me this?"

"Because my sister was lovely. She was such a kind girl, because she was bullied so badly. Then she met the true leaders of the Leadership. Now she's Soldier Miller."

"Malcolm?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm sorry. Thank you so, so much for tellin' me. If I _ever _get a real position of power, I will make you a bloody knight."

Then, the phone went dead. Malcolm sat quietly in his quarters, thinking hard about his sister. Her name meant 'powerful', but when she was a little girl, even as recently as two years before, she'd been the quiet, sad, fat kid that graces every classroom and is generally ignored or despised. Then, she'd heard about the Leadership. The intense training had pulled pounds off of her already tall, muscular figure. She had changed from the sweet older sister to a warrior. A Spartan.

Malcolm's last thought before Soldier Miller's axe entered the back of his head was about how much he missed her.

* * *

"Soldier Miller's after us. We need to hide." Danny whispered in the back of the taxi. They were only a few minutes from Tom's house, now. "There is a place. I had five of 'em built behind the back of the real Leadership, back when I was fifteen or sixteen. They're safehouses for political rebels. I guess that's what I am, now. What we are. If I explain, they'll let us in straight away. The nearest one to you is only a couple of miles, we can walk."

Debbie suddenly leant back and closed her eyes, sighing heavily and pinching the bridge of her nose. A strange, animalistic sob escaped her lips. "I thought...just once...it'd go okay."

Bob slipped an arm tight around her, and rested his head on her shoulder. For a moment, the two held each other. Then Debbie drew back.

"I'm sorry. It's fine. Thank you, Danny, for having a place for us to go."

Danny looked across at the woman who had come to be a surrogate mother to him and very gently rested one hand on her shoulder. Then, with his other, he cupped her own hands.

"Debbie, you are an amazin' person. You've put up with all this rubbish. You should be proud."

Debbie looked up and across at Danny, a smile on her face. "I'd be proud to call you my son."

"I hate to break up such a sweet family moment, but we're here." the driver drily said. Tom looked out of the window first, and gasped. Where he was expecting a house, there was nothing. All around, nothing. Amongst the ashes of the street, a few families sat, looking shellshocked, while children scavenged amongst the wrecks for things that survived. But sure enough, at the end of the street, was a sign bearing its name.

"Thank you." Tom whispered to the driver. His head blocked the window, so no one else could look out of his. However, they glanced out of the others. Surprisingly, it was Debbie who took action.

"Thank you, driver. Here's your payment." she firmly said, handing over a few coins. Then, she pushed the door closest to her open and got out, dragging Carrie out with her. Bob, Tom and Danny followed her, utterly dazed, and watched as the clean taxi drew away from this filthy place.

"Let's see if there's anything left over. Those children are finding quite a lot from the other houses." Debbie determinedly suggested, marching over to her old residence. After a lot of scuffling around, all five managed to find something: Danny dragged up a couple of metal pots, Tom a bundle of slightly blackened blankets, Bob a sofa cushion, Debbie a stool and Carrie an old teddy bear, which made her burst into tears.

"Don't cry, Carrie." Debbie quietly said, in her same, determined voice. "We're all sad here."


	12. Chapter 12

**I hope you like this one! I've been busy doing Christmas things - sorry for the slow updates! Dedicated to kbeto, as alwats!**

* * *

The walk wasn't difficult, but with the shock and horror of finding the Fletcher house in ruins with no trace of their former life left, it was challenging to keep up. Tom lagged particularly behind, and eventually Bob turned and gently asked,

"What's wrong, son?"

"This is all my fault. If I'd just stuck it out at the complex and not run away, none of this would have happened."

Tom suddenly felt a hand lightly touch his shoulder, just inches from the highest whip wound. He turned to see Danny beside him, a stunned expression on his freckled teenage face.

"Don't be daft, Tom." Danny told him. "If we're going to play the blame game, we coul' say that I'm to blame for this all because I followed their orders."

No one needed to ask who 'they' were.

"That's ridiculous!" Tom exclaimed. "You didn't have any choice - if you didn't obey, they'd have killed you!"

"Exac'ly."

Tom gave Danny a small smile before continuing to walk, now with one hand in Danny's. For a blissfully aware idiot, Danny could be rather intelligent at times.

* * *

The family were walking down a long, equally as burnt out road when Danny suddenly stopped in front of a nondescript tree.

"I hope I remember how to get in." Danny commented offhandedly, making all four Fletcher's feel a strike of panic.

Danny did though, and after a few little motions around the tree and the ground beside it, two paving slabs slowly drew apart, revealing a long, black drop and a stiff iron ladder down one side of it.

"We have to climb down." Danny told them. "It's only about five minutes worth of climbin', as far as I remember. I mean, I ain't been here in a while, but it weren't that far."

It took a few seconds to decide how to manoeuvre themselves down. Eventually it was decided that Danny would go first, followed by Tom and Carrie (Carrie got onto the ladder and Tom stood around her, lest she fell), then Debbie, then Bob. As soon as Bob was a couple of feet down the ladder, the paving slabs slid back together, leaving them in complete darkness. It fell thickly over the air, almost choking them, as they blinked and attempted to look around.

"D'un't worry!" Danny called, below them. "There are some safety lights."

However, it was hard not to worry when they were standing in a tiny, almost pitch black tunnel, climbing down a slightly greasy ladder to an uncertain welcome. Would they believe that Danny wasn't to blame? Would they accept them all amongst them? What would the living quarters be like?

"Danny?" Tom called, this very thought in his mind.

"Yeah?" Danny grunted back, his voice slightly husky.

"Will they believe that you're- oh, damn, that hurt- not to blame for everything?"

A pause. "Tom, this place is for political rebels. If they're here, they know the truth."

Tom sighed with relief, which made Carrie laugh as his breath tickled her hair. Soon, all five were laughing as they climbed, laughing at the ridiculous nature of the whole situation. Over their shoulders were the bags that Tom, Debbie and Bob had purchased when they went out and bought necessities, now also stuffed with the few things they could salvage from their house.

* * *

The guard waiting at the bottom of the tunnel was sat on a chair, her nose deep in a book. One of the safety lights was directly above her, so there was no problem about seeing the words, but still she groaned.

"Um, hey?" Danny didn't like to disturb someone obviously concentrating so hard. The girl jumped and looked up, guiltily putting one hand back to the gun on her waist. However, she relaxed when she saw who it was.

"Hi, Danny. Is that your boyfriend, and his family? If so, they can go on through with you. If not, I'll have to do a few prelims."

Tom was confused – how did she know who he was, and what the heck was a prelim? - but Danny seemed right at home.

"Thank you, Lauren. It is my boyfriend, yeah – are we okay to go through?"

The woman was only seventeen or so, with long, straight brown hair confined by an alice band and a strange array of clothes: black skinny jeans, a huge, baggy grey jumper and a red beret, along with high-ankle red trainers.

"Of course! If you go through, Mike or Ann – I can't remember who's on – will sort out a room for you all. You'll all be sharing – I hope that's okay."

Danny nodded gratefully and gave her a glimmering grin, which caused a blush to stain her cheeks. As soon as they were out of earshot down the long corridor, Tom swung to Danny and curiously asked,

"Who on earth was that?"

Danny smirked. "Loz. Lauren. My first girlfriend, from back when we were twelve. First snog, as well – we were at school and everyone was surrounding us in a circle, and we snogged really badly-"

"Dan! I don't need to know!" Tom exclaimed, laughing, an expression of mock-disgust coming across his face. "Why is she here?"

"I managed to wing her a job in politics, but she disagreed with wha' was goin' on, so she came here."

The talk ceased when the family saw a large, bright room, only twenty metres or so away. Their paces quickened as they walked to the safe place, hoping beyond hope that it would truly be safe.

* * *

"Have some dinner before I take you to your room, you must be absolutely bushed."

The man that had taken down their details ("I don't exactly need to ask _you_, Danny." he'd grinned, giving Danny a wink which made him blush just as hard as Lauren had five minutes prior) was cheerful and perhaps a year older than Danny, with curly red hair and dark green eyes that looked almost liquid. He lead them through to a warm, bright room, with a large table in the centre. An odd collection of people sat at the table, eating some kind of pie: a woman with bubblegum pink hair, a man who was dressed in nothing but dungarees and a top hat, a set of triplets who looked about twelve or thirteen who were getting their way through an entire pie.

"It's tinned potato and tuna pie tonight – one of the best dishes made from the worst type of food, tinned." his face smiled brightly, but he suddenly turned thunderous and shouted, "Michael, Robert, Freddie, stop eating that pie like that _right now _or I swear to god I'll get Hannah on you again."

The three triplets looked frightened and pushed the pie hastily away. The Fletcher family and Danny sat down at the table, gladly accepting heaping plates of steaming pie and large glasses of UHT milk.

"I'm Joy." the bubblegum haired woman smiled, taking another bite of the pie. "The only spare family room around the living rooms right now is the one next to mine, so I can take you all down after dinner."

"Thanks, Joy! I'm super busy! See you, Danny and co!"

The nice man who had welcomed them fled from the warmth of the kitchen, leaving them in the company of the new people. One of the triplets slid down the bench to Carrie and said something which made her laugh loudly, while the dungaree man started chatting with Bob about guitars. Joy was by far the most interesting company, however: she was dressed in a swoopy, 50's style dress, which she admitted with a guilty smile,

"I nicked it from the clothes room and put my old clothes there in its place. It was too beautiful to leave to someone who wouldn't appreciate it."

As they all got through their rather delicious dinner, Joy explained a lot to them.

"School's compulsory for everyone under twenty one here – so you two will be at school again." she laughed, pointing at Danny and Tom. "I'm in there as well – my twenty first birthday's in a week. I'll stay on until the end of the year, though."

"What's the school like here?" Carrie shyly asked, hoping that no one would notice the arm of the twin (Robert) around her shoulder.

"It's pretty good. Most of the teachers are alright, unless you get Miss Harris – she's awful! There's one lesson of PE every other day, in the hall. There are three PE teachers, and one of them is as sweet as the other two are sour. I hope you get Miss White, the sweet one. I have her, and she's fantastic. There's a lesson on politics every day as well, which is interesting."

"Is all the food tinned?" Debbie asked. Joy violently shook her head.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "We get a delivery once a fortnight of fresh food. The next one is tomorrow, so we're running a bit short right now, that's all. Believe it or not, the food here is actually pretty good. This is the _worst _example of life here."

* * *

The room that Joy told them was theirs was actually rather lovely. It was sparse, certainly, but lovely all the same. In the wall were eight bunks which were pushed away in the night, meaning that the room could function as almost anything. A table and two long benches were also in the wall, and a wardrobe was built right into it. A small alcove (also burrowed into the wall) revealed a large selection of literature, from Noddy to Tolstoy.

"They provide some good books. That swings around into my room – we share the books. If you ever need me, just get into the bookcase!" Joy giggled, pushing a strand of her excitingly coloured hair from her eyes.

The floor was thickly carpeted, and while there was no window (of course, as they were underground) there were lights that changed subtly as they day went on to mimic natural light while still providing enough light. At that moment, they shone a little dimly, much like the falling light of the evening.

"If you need anything, give me a shout. Oh! I'd better take you to the clothes room as well, to swap those clothes for a set of recreation clothes, a set of work clothes and some pyjamas." Joy grinned at them, her bubbly personality evident in her sweet voice.

* * *

The room was actually incredibly cosy once set up: five beds warmly made with two blankets and a plump pillow, a sewing kit placed on the table and a couple of dolls from the toy room for Carrie. Joy suggested that they used the spare three pillows and one of the bunks to create a sofa, which was promptly done. Carrie was twirling around the room in a dress similar to Joy's, but obviously much smaller, while Tom and Danny were curled up on one of their bunks (the size of the bunks made having separate ones an unfortunate necessity) and Debbie and Bob were quietly talking together.

"I'll see you sexy people tomorrow, then! Peace out!" Joy left the room giggling, and when she entered her own room they heard the clattering of a bunk being put up followed by the creaking of the shared bookcase. When it spun back around, the smallest Noddy book was missing.

* * *

The next day, both Danny and Tom found the sight of the other in their uniform absolutely ridiculous. It was a simple suit, but Danny's was too small and Tom's was far, far too big.

"C'mon, you three, school!"

Carrie looked sweet in the little gingham school dress that she had been given, and happily blabbered away to Joy as Joy found out which class the three were in. Tom audibly sighed with relief when he found out that himself and Danny were in the same class.

"You're in here, guys. Oh – you've got Miss Harris! Poor you! Good luck."

Joy gave each of them a bear hug before knocking loudly on the door for them.

"Enter!"

Miss Harris had a voice like a cheesegrater scraping down a fridge, there was no avoiding it. Danny and Tom entered the room, feeling simultaneously completely out of place and in place. They were glad to see Lauren amongst the teens in the room, as well as the guy who had brought them in who Danny had later explained was his first _boyfriend_, Mike.

"You two must be the new pupils. Go and sit down at that desk in front of mine – I want to keep an eye on you both. Your reputation precedes both of you, but I hope I don't have any problems. Tomorrow, you will turn up on time, or you will be severely punished."

The two sat down at the two-man desk, keeping their eyes on the two small piles of books and papers. Inside of the hollow desks sat a haram scaram collection of stationary, a few more books and a timetable. They were barely a minute late, but decided not to argue it. Neither particularly cared to find out what a severe punishment was in this strange new place, particularly since Tom's back was still wounded.

* * *

"Danny! What was your answer to question six?" Miss Harris crisply asked. It was just before lunch started, and the class were bored stiff. Maths isn't necessarily boring or difficult, as long as it is taught correctly. For example, when I was a young boy, before the Leadership began, my maths teacher used to stand on the desk when telling us a vital point, which made them all the more memorable as well as entertaining. Miss Harris was about as likely to stand on a desk as a pig was to do a tap dance and then bake a chocolate cake.

Danny jumped. "I, err, haven't answered that one yet, Miss."

"One discredit."

Three discredits to one person lead to a 'meeting', which Joy said were terrible but refused to explain exactly what was wrong with them.

"What about you, Tom?"

"Three x squared over seven y cubed."

Miss Harris raised an eyebrow. "Apparently we have one incredibly stupid new pupil and one incredibly intelligent one."

A nervous titter passed through the classroom as everyone ticked or crossed the answer – Danny hastily scrawled it down in black pen before ticking it in 'marking purple', a pen which indicated it had been marked by yourself or a peer rather than your teacher.

"Danny!"

Danny's head snapped up. "Yes?"

"Yes, _Miss?"_

Danny grinned, a twinkle in his eye, memories of Tom filling his mind. "I'm not a girl, Miss - you don't need to call _me _Miss!"

_"_You impertinent little brat! I just saw you cheating – another discredit within the minute! We have a record, ladies and gentlemen."

Just then, the lunch bell rang, and Danny thanked it silently. Quite literally saved by the bell.


	13. Chapter 13

**I hope you're enjoying reading this like I enjoyed writing it. There's like another ten chapters so I think it might be daily updates until Christmas from now on!**

* * *

Thankfully, Danny didn't earn another discredit that day. Miss Harris didn't miss an opportunity to give two to Tom, though. Halfway through the politics lesson that afternoon, she announced a test on recent political changes.

"Anyone who gets less than twelve out of twenty marks will receive a discredit. Begin!" she told them, her voice still as mangled and disgusting as before. Danny immediately began writing – having essentially been raised in the midst of politics, he knew every single answer. Tom, however, didn't have a clue. He could answer three one-mark questions and a couple of two-mark questions, but even if he got every single mark from those questions (which he doubted, as he could almost taste the meanness that Miss Harris would use when marking them) he would only have seven. All of a sudden, he heard a murmur from his side.

"Write rubbish. Ya can can get a mark for almost anything, as long as i' makes sense and you can justify i'."

Tom grinned at Danny's advice before taking a very brief glance at his sheet: it was absolutely crammed with writing already. Tom couldn't help but find it extremely funny that Danny was going to ace the test and he was going to not only fail, but fail badly.

"Finish your sentence and put your pens down!"

In the couple of minutes since Danny's mutter, Tom had managed to scrawl down a decent answer to the six-mark question.

"Now, I am going to write the acceptable answers to the one, two and three mark questions, but I will mark the six mark question myself." she crisply told them. Tom thanked his impeccable memory when he got every single of the seven marks of seven individual or paired marks that he had attempted. When the papers were collected, he glanced at the clock: another ten minutes until the end of the lesson, maybe enough time to mark them all.

* * *

As it was, Tom got eleven out of twenty, while Danny got twenty.

"Only two people in this classroom have failed not only me, but themselves. Stand up if you did." she told them, her voice bitter. Tom hesitantly stood up, unsure of what was happening, and hid a tiny smile when he saw that Lauren had stood up as well.

"Thomas, maybe it is acceptable that you didn't get the 60% needed to pass, and you were only one mark off of it. Still, you now have one discredit against your name. Lauren, you have been here for almost three years. That test covers things that you would have done when you were fourteen or fifteen! Can you really not remember simple things like that? Are you really that stupid?"

If it had been Tom that was being talked to in such a vile manner, he would have stood blushingly and took it. Lauren, however, was different.

"It's the anniversary of my dad dying, you insensitive bi-"

"Lauren! Leave the room, I will speak to you afterwards. Thomas, what are you doing standing around like a lemon – another discredit for annoying me!"

Tom hastily sat down, now acutely aware that even a minor slip up would leave them both with the feared three discredits on their _first day_. Back in 'real school', as Tom thought of it, he'd been a goody two shoes, never in trouble. Now, he was a supposed troublemaker.

* * *

"How was school?" Debbie asked, when the three entered the room at the same time, accompanied by Joy. If a child had two parents in the underground labyrinth, one was released early from work on school days to look after them. This practise stopped at the age of twelve, but as Carrie wasn't quite twelve, Debbie was there.

"Awesome!" Carrie cried, at just the same moment as Danny and Tom said,

"Terrible!"

Joy laughed from behind them, and Debbie in front of them. "They've got the worst teacher in the whole place." Joy told Debbie, indicating Tom and Danny. "How many discredits did you get?"

"Two each." Tom quietly replied.

Joy laughed even harder. "You don't need to worry if you get a third, really – she can't wield a-"

"Carrie, how was your day?" Debbie suddenly interrupted, pressing the button that pushed out the other bench at the table so that the four could sit down opposite them.

"Really, really good! My teacher, Miss Grant, is lovely, and the work is really easy. Well, except for the politics, but she said that because I've only just got here I don't need to worry for now, just concentrate in class. I even got a merit!"

"What's a merit?" Debbie asked, glancing down to the sewing in her hands. Apparently, she had been drafted as a seamstress in the sewing room, and had brought some work back with her.

"If you're really good, you get a merit. When you get three merits, you get to put your name into a draw to win things like extra socks, or extra pudding for a week. It's the opposite of a discredit – if you're really bad you get one. If you get three discredits, you get caned." Carrie shuddered. "I hope I never get three discredits."

Danny and Tom sighed when they realised the real fate of three discredits – a meeting between their backsides and a cane.

"You two already have two discredits?" Debbie exclaimed, shocked. "But Tom, you were so good at real school..."

"Their teacher is really horrible!" Joy interjected. "Seriously, I got about a hundred discredits in the year that I had her, but I've only had one since September with the one I have now."

Debbie relaxed a little bit. "You two had better be awfully careful."

"Yeah, we'd noticed." Danny chuckled. "I feel like I'm thirteen and back at real school again, except I did well in a test."

* * *

That night, dinner was pasta with fresh vegetable and mince sauce, a nice change from the tinned food orientated meals that they had experienced thus far.

"The fresh food arrived not an hour ago...it was lucky, really, or it'd be baked bean pie, which as you all know isn't the nicest of foods..." An older man, perhaps thirty, gave them all a plate of food, making everyone chuckle with his cheeky little comments. His brown hair was sticking out wildly on his head, and his clear green eyes stood out from his pale freckled skin. Really, he was rather cute.

"Hello, gorgeous." he said to Debbie, with a wink. "Do you like pasta?"

She nodded, blushing. Bob had just been served, and had walked away with a blush to his cheeks as well.

"Well, I've got some _delightful _pasta here for you, made with my blood, sweat and tears."

As he handed the bowl to her, he ran a finger down her hand, making her giggle like a schoolgirl. Carrie was next, and he chucked her under the chin and warned her against his triplet sons (Carrie had been spotted hand in hand with one of them, Robert) as he gave her a bowl, and winked at her as he put a sprinkle of cheese on top.

"Well, _hello_." he grinned at Tom when he came to get some of the food, stripping Tom with his eyes. "I didn't realise we had a shipment of chocolate, but you're so sweet we must have done."

Tom turned scarlet as he accepted the bowl of (garnished, with a grin) pasta.

"Thank you..." he managed, almost choking when he felt a pat to his bum as he walked away.

* * *

That night, when everyone was back in their room (Joy was in theirs, as she was all alone in her tiny, one person room next door otherwise), an announcement came in over a sort of intercom system.

"Could Danny Jones and Thomas Fletcher please report to the media room? Thank you."

Danny and Tom turned to each other, a little confused, before getting up.

"I have no idea where the media room is – you'll have to find it for yourself. God speed, my friends." Joy gave them a wink and a shrug as they left.

"Do you know why we need to go?" Tom asked Danny, as soon as they were out of the room.

"I...I might." Danny replied. "I think they might want to film some sort of propaganda film, to try and bug into normal television broadcasts."

"I can understand wanting you, then, but why me?" Tom asked, bewildered.

"Maybe to show that we're both alive. I think tha' our escape might have been publicised a little bit – it normally is when someone escapes. Thank god they d'un't know where we all go." Danny's explanation sounded fair enough, but the waver in his voice showed that he was uncertain. After a few minutes of wandering around, the two saw a sign reading 'Media Room', with an arrow. The artificial lights now shone bright and twinkled, like stars, so it was easy enough to locate the room. After a hesitant knock, they went in.

The room was vast, with all kinds of cameras and equipment lining the walls. People milled around, either talking very quickly about nothing at all or doing literally nothing except for stand and breath.

"At last!" exclaimed a very false looking man with an extreme false tan and highly waxed hair. "We thought that the talent had gotten lost!"

"The talent..?" Tom asked, but his comment was ignored as the two were ushered to a table covered in makeup and plonked down.

"We're just going to a film a few seconds of you standing together – hand in hand, preferably. We'll edit in some text and try and air it in every few minutes on public television. We've learnt how to break the barriers and we can air it, but they can quiet often stop it within ten seconds." the false man said, as if he had explained everything.

"Filming what?" Tom asked.

"What text?" Danny questioned.

The man waved a hand in the air. "Just watch some television in the recreation room whenever you can. You'll see yourself within ten minutes."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Danny and Tom had been filmed doing all kinds of awkward things, sending them both into peals of laughter every few seconds. The camera women and men must have been frustrated, but they didn't say a word to the two teenagers.

"Okay, now I want you to kiss. Don't touch each other with anything but your lips!" Called one of the camera workers, a tall, slim man called Henry. Tom and Danny moved closer and pressed their lips together, uncomfortably trying not to touch each other even casually with their hands or arms.

"Try bending forward a little and kissing like that."

That worked a little better, and eventually the director shouted,

"Okay, that's a wrap!"

Danny and Tom immediately moved away from the green screen that they were being filmed against, holding each other's hands as they went to walk away.

"Wait! We've already done a mock of one of the shots – come and look! This isn't the final version, of course, but it'll be similar to this!"

Sighing, the two dragged themselves back over to the director and glanced at the tiny screen. They themselves popped up, laughing together. It was one of the stops between shots, when they were both laughing from their very bellies. Over the top, bright red text burned out the words, '_We're Still Happy._'. The green screen had been made to look like a bedroom.

"Okay..." Tom said, unsure of what he was supposed to say.

"It's not just okay, it's marvellous!" the director exclaimed. Danny suddenly let out a huge, bone cracking yawn, stretching out as he did.

"You two get off to bed!" the director laughed. "You've done an excellent job!"


	14. Chapter 14

**Daily updates until Christmas! Yay! I was listening to the 'Surf Medley' from the MITO tour while writing this, which is why is is slightly more upbeat than previous updates (well...some parts of it are...in fact, scratch that, this is just as glum as other updates :D). Sorry for my lack of McFly fanfiction recently - I've been attempting to branch out a little into writing for other fandoms, but I promise that the McFly fandom will always take my top priority and I will always love it most! Trigger warning for references to self harm and depression in this one.**

* * *

The next morning, the two teenage boys had to force themselves to get out of bed, not only dog tired from their late night filming but also reluctant to see Miss Harris again.

"C'mon, sleepyheads!" Joy had slid into the room to see them, and was standing around waiting for the two to finish changing. "Anyone'd think you two have the worst teacher in the world!"

Joy chuckled at herself, before grabbing Carrie by the waist and spinning around, making her giggle.

"Joy, is there some kind of shop down here?" Bob asked with interest as he pulled on his shoes.

"Yeah, of course!" Joy grinned. "When you get paid – once a week, before you ask – you can use your ID card in the shop. You just scan it on one of the machines and it takes virtual payment from your virtual account."

"What can you buy?" Debbie asked, suddenly interested.

"All sorts of stuff – scented soaps instead of the grim stuff that they give out, extra clothes, stationary...how do you think my hair got pink? I'm almost ninety percent sure it's not natural!" Joy's voice sounded happy, and she tousled her fluorescent hair with a couple of fingers before smiling widely at the people who had very quickly become close to her quirky nature.

"That sounds cool!" Tom exclaimed. "How did you get money, though, since you're at school?"

"I was assigned an evening job – twice a week, I help out with cooking. You two will get assigned one soon, and as soon as Carrie turns twelve, she will as well. Because of the problems I've had in the past I'm not given too much work because I crack under pressure."

"What problems have you had?" Carrie asked curiously.

"Do you know what depression is, Carrie?" she gently asked, pushing her hand through her bright hair. Carrie shook her head hesitantly.

"It can be caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain, or it can be triggered by something bad happening in your life. When I was fourteen my brother – my twin brother – died from cancer. I...I didn't handle it too well. I couldn't cope with my emotions, so I started to cut my skin open sometimes to deal with everything. It sounds silly now, but at the time it seemed like the only option. Every day felt like it was a punishment – I rarely got out of bed for school or anything like that. Then, when I ended up here with my parents and my little sister Chastity, my teacher noticed some of the cuts on one of my thighs when I was changing for PE and asked me about it. I ended up blurting everything out, and she got help for me in the medical room – counselling, as well as some medication. I think I was properly 'recovered' by the time I was seventeen. Now I'm happy, happier than I've ever been, but I still have some problems. Like, certain things make me extremely anxious and upset, and can make me ill. Equally, some things can make me feel very depressed again, but just temporarily. I have to be pretty careful with myself, and they appreciate that."

While speaking, Joy had slid down to a seating position on the floor. When she finished, she suddenly found herself smushed in a huge hug sandwich. Danny and Tom crouched either side of her and yanked her into a tight hug, while Carrie leapt onto her from the front and wrapped herself around her. She laughed, and slipped her arms around the three whom she had quickly become so close to.

"C'mon, guys, we're going to be late for school."

* * *

"Since yesterday's 'new arrivals' didn't settle very well next to each other, I've had to rejig the seating plan. Danny, you're still at the front. Lauren, move to Tom's seat. Tom, you sit where Lauren was. Any misbehaviour from any of you, however minor, is an instant discredit. Right, class, time for English."

Sighing, Tom shifted his bag onto his shoulder and slowly moved over to Lauren's old seat, between a girl who kept her head down close to her page and wrote very quickly and a boy with very little hair and a nervous twitch. Lauren slid easily beside Danny, grinning as she did so. Her long brown hair was tied into two spindly plaits, and her work clothes were somewhat customised with scarlet buttons instead of black ones and a few tastefully sewn ribbons.

"Read pages 23 – 39 of the novel '1984' by George Orwell and answer the questions on the blackboard." Miss Harris crisply told them, handing a large pile of the little books to Danny and indicating that he should hand them out. As he did so, he slipped a tiny note under Tom's copy.

'_I feel like I'm at bloody school again. Oh wait – I am._'

Tom urged his laughter away, and opened the book to the prescribed page. As he read the novel, he couldn't help but realise just how much he related to the situation. In a way, his own world had changed from relatively normal to positively dystopian in just a couple of years.

* * *

"Now, swap your books with the person next to you and we'll mark. Anyone with less than fifteen out of twenty gets a discredit." Miss Harris' eyes sparkled when she announced this, her eyes lingering long and hard on Danny. Danny wasn't a voracious reader, nor was he particularly 'book smart'. Glumly, he swapped his exercise book with Lauren's, knowing full well that he would be in for a third discredit and the subsequent punishment. As Miss Harris quickly went through the answers, Tom realised with a sinking feeling that he didn't have a single question right: instead of pages twenty three to thirty nine, he had read one hundred and twenty three to one hundred and thirty nine. Every single answer was completely wrong. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach, but he tried to brush it away. He was nineteen, a little stick would do nothing to him. More than fear of pain, Tom felt stupid. Feeling stupid is never a nice feeling, but to Tom in that moment it felt like the worst feeling possible. Accepting his book back with the large purple '0/20' written in it, he mentally prepared himself.

"Everyone with under fifteen marks, stand up."

More people than Tom expected stood up: well over half the class were out of their seats. Miss Harris sucked her teeth.

"Sit down if you have ten or more marks. Since so many of you failed, I will obviously have to lower the grade boundaries."

Now, the only ones left standing were Tom, Danny, Lauren and a girl called Maddie.

"Discredits for all four of you. Ha! Funnily enough, that's you three's third discredit!" Miss Harris waved her hand sweepingly over Tom, Danny and Lauren. "Tom, I am surprised at you, though. Unlike these three fools, you at least seem intelligent."

"I...I read the wrong pages in the book." Tom dully replied, trying desperately to swallow the hot, burning lump in his throat. Miss Harris cawed loudly with laughter.

"Apparently you're just as dumb as these two! Right! After school, you three can stay behind for your fate."

Miss Harris didn't stop grinning all afternoon.

* * *

It wasn't as bad as Tom had anticipated, and compared to some of the brutal whippings Danny had had, it was paltry. However, it was still viciously painful as well as horrifically embarrassing. Lauren suffered the most: Miss Harris seemed to have a real hatred for her, viciously swinging the thin wooden stick down much harder than she should have done.

"Are ya okay?" Danny asked her afterwards, as the three left the classroom and began to walk back to their rooms. Joy and Carrie were waiting, both looking anxious.

"I'm fine." Lauren replied, a hardness in her voice. "I'm just annoyed at that stupid old bag. That's my fourth time in the last fortnight."

"Did you get beaten?" Joy asked sympathetically, an Tom felt Carrie's cold, clammy little palm wrap itself around his. Danny nodded.

"It weren't fair!" Danny exclaimed, a stormy frown crossing his face. "I mean, it wa'nt tha' bad, but it still weren't fair."

Joy laughed, before stopping for a moment to pull Danny, Tom and Lauren into a tight hug.

"You think it's bad for you three, being taught by her. She's my mother."

Danny stared gapingly at her, while Tom exclaimed, "But you're so nice!"

Joy smirked a little. "I'm a rose who was birthed to the biggest bloody thorn I've ever seen."

"It coul' be worse." Danny responded, rubbing the seat of his trousers. "You coul' be Soldier Miller's daughter."

* * *

"Tom, I have a question to ask - can I borrow you a sec?" Joy asked as they reached their side-by-side rooms.

"Sure." Tom replied, indicating for Danny and Carrie to enter the room. Lauren had already pealed off to her family's room.

"Is Lauren straight? I would have asked Danny, he knows her better, but he might have told her that I'd asked..." Joy trailed off.

"I'm not sure, Joy. Why?" Tom asked pleasantly, smiling a little at the blush on Joy's cheeks that matched her exuberant hair.

"I just...well, I sort of like her, that's all."


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you so much for the reviews! I really do appreciate them a lot.**

* * *

Over the few days after that, numerous propaganda films of Danny and Tom aired, and they started to get a lot more recognition. Even Miss Harris eased off of them a little, but not much. Just enough that they were only getting one discredit a day, instead of three or four, which in turn lead to a decline in the number of beatings they received. Then, one day, every single person in the underground world was called to the recreation room. Someone in government had announced a compulsory bulletin, which obviously meant that it was something important. Danny and Tom were propelled to the front of the room, right beside the television set to watch it.

To their dismay, Soldier Miller came up on their screen, as ravishingly dangerous and beautiful as she had always been.

"Men, women, children. Friends, comrades and citizens. Today I have a terrible announcement for you all, one which will change the course of every single Sector's history for life."

There was a rustling amongst the crowd of people in the room. Soldier Miller lifted a finger to her eye, pretending to wipe away a tear.

"Danny Jones, our esteemed president, along with his boyfriend Tom Fletcher, died last night. Danny contracted a severe form of influenza, which he passed on to Tom, and the two died within the day. Now, we have held votes within the party and I was voted to be the new acting president. My name is Jaida Miller, and I am your leader. Thank you, that is all."

A choking, palpable silence filled the room. Danny felt an arm slide around his shoulders and turned to see Lauren, her usually rosy cheeks incredibly pale. Tom was pulled into a tight hug from Debbie, who wouldn't let go for anything. Slowly, people began to filter out, and eventually the only ones that remained were Joy, Lauren, the Fletcher family and Danny.

"Why?" beseeched Danny, resting his head on Tom's shoulder and raising one hand to Lauren's shoulder.

"We don't know, son. We don't know." Bob quietly said.

* * *

After that, people began to be a little cautious around Danny and Tom, as if they really did have life threatening influenza.

"Fletcher, Jones, move onto the back row- no arguing, do it now!" Miss Harris exclaimed the next morning, indicating the otherwise empty back row. They did so, sitting as close to each other as they could. That entire day, neither did any work, preferring to pass notes to each other on scraps of paper and keep their heads down. Occasionally, someone would glance back at them and give them either a scornful look or a sympathetic one, depending on their opinion on the matter. Some felt sorry for them, and realised that the new political situation wasn't their fault. Others felt that Danny and Tom were endangering their secrecy just by being there, and that they should leave.

"I can't stand this." Danny muttered during their ten minute break as he threw away the core of the apple he had been eating. Tom nodded slightly, glancing around to check whether anyone was watching them, before breaking his orange slowly into segments and absent-mindedly slipping one into his mouth.

"It's just not fair." Tom replied, his voice low and even so that it would not be noticeable in the noisy mayhem of the room.

"I think I'm gonna say something." Danny told him, and before Tom could pull his boyfriend back, Danny had climbed on top of one of the tables.

"I need to say something." he loudly stated, and at once most people turned to him. Danny had an extreme presence in a room, and most people paid attention to him when he demanded it. This was another part of the reason why he had lead the Leadership: people wanted to look at him. It was a little like how Hitler could command the attention of a room with a single word, the difference being that Danny was not evil, nor particularly misguided.

"Ever since Soldier Miller's announcement yesterday, some of ya have been treatin' me and my boyfriend like criminals. Leave us _alone_. We have done nothin' wrong. We escaped from a dangerous place to try and help you all. We've passed on details of the government which have helped to capture a couple'a the main 'real' leaders. We've _helped, _which is more than some of ya have done! You wanna see why we escaped?"

Danny ripped his blazer from his body and then yanked his shirt up, revealing prominent purple scarring. A gasp ran up amongst the seventeen, eighteen and nineteen year olds in the audience. Most present had been subject to some form of corporal punishment during their life underground, and had found it unjust. This was, however, on a totally different level. The scars went right from the very top of Danny's young, pale back to right beside the start of his bottom, tainting the flesh. In an instant, it became clear to the students that whatever hardships they had had to suffer in this supposedly good, happy underground world, Danny had suffered thousands more in another seemingly reputable organisation: the government.

"Soldier Miller did that t'a me. Can ya see why we had to leave now?"

Moodily, Danny pushed his shirt back down, replaced his blazer and jumped off of the table to Tom, who he gave a resounding kiss.

Moments later, the crowd hesitantly began to clap.

* * *

"School was _awful _today!" Carrie exclaimed, running from the classroom and straight into Tom's arms. He awkwardly patted her back, aware that he was significantly taller than her.

"What happened?" Joy asked, giving Tom and wink and scooping her up.

"Everyone was really horrible to me and I don't know why."

Although now twelve, Carrie was still very small and skinny for her age, and could be easily carried by the average person. Resting her head on Joy's shoulder, she began to sniffle. Danny and Tom both felt awful when they realised that the ten, eleven and twelve year old kids were imitating the behaviour of their older siblings towards themselves.

"I think it'll be okay tomorrow, Carrie." Danny said, opening the door to their room. Carrie jumped down from Joy's arms.

"Why?" she asked.

"I sorted it all out." he gave her a grin. "I don't think anyone'll be botherin' you for a long, long time."

* * *

That night at dinner, Tom saw with a sinking feeling that the only other person eating at that time was Miss Harris.

"Hello, mother." Joy stiffly said, sitting herself as far from the bitter old woman as she could.

"You're hanging around with _that _family?" Miss Harris asked, her eyebrows shooting upwards like fireworks into the night sky, but remarkably uglier and less sparkly.

"Yes – it's great, isn't it? I've finally found some people that accept me for who I am - and who haven't terrorised me for not being straight!" Joy gave her mother a grin, and every single member of the Fletcher family (including Danny) couldn't help but smile as well. It was nice seeing Miss Harris get taken down a peg or two.

"Yeah – a freak, just like them!" the rage in Miss Harris's voice bubbled up, making it even more bitter and unbearable than usual.

"I think it's more freaky that you enjoy terrorizing teenagers, to be perfectly honest." Joy smoothly replied, taking a spoonful of her dinner.

"I don't- how dare you!"

"I dare because I care." Joy told her, winking. Miss Harris' face had turned an ugly puce colour, which told the others that the phrase had been used before in some other context.

"Young lady, I am still your mother and I can still-"

"Yeah yeah, blah blah, punishment, responsibility...no one cares, mother."

Of course, being so disrespectful to anyone is rarely the right thing to do. In some cases, however, it is absolutely the right thing to do. For example, if you happened to meet a woman who's favourite thing to do is eat babies, you have the right to be disrespectful to her. However, if you meet someone who is simply a little bit mean, you don't. You have to judge the seriousness of the situation.

In that moment, it was absolutely the right thing for Joy to do.

Miss Harris rose from her seat, fists clenched, shoulders tense and jaw tight. "I am going to let your teacher know of your disrespect so that you earn at least one discredit."

Joy laughed. "Oh no, what a disaster!" she replied sarcastically. "One whole discredit!"

Miss Harris' hand flew out and slapped Joy hard across the face, before storming from the room.

"You're always welcome to hang around with 'that' family, you know. You're as good as part of it." Debbie told her, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. Joy laughed.

"I'm sorry that you had to see that – my mother isn't exactly the nicest of people. Thank you very much, Debbie: and don't worry, I will hang around with 'that' family, they are the greatest family I have ever met! Now, c'mon, lets eat before our dinner gets cold."

* * *

Lauren shyly knocked on Joy's door, twisting her fingers together as she did. Nerves were shooting through her like needles, sending her poor stomach churning and acid rising up her throat.

"Come in!" called Joy's accent-less voice, a note of surprise in it. Evidently, she wasn't expecting any visitors, which surprised Lauren - Joy was popular, and usually had at least one friend knocking to see her every evening.

"Hi, Joy." Lauren's voice was breathy, and she could feel her anxiety filling her, threatening to bubble over in a terrible outburst of pain and fear.

"Hey, Lauren! Do you want to sit down?" Joy was knitting away at something, dressed in stripy pyjamas as she clicked the thick needles together.

"Not really - I just wanted to talk to you a second. I heard what happened to you at dinner - you're so brave."

Joy chuckled. "She's my mother - it's not like I stood up to a deity or anything. Just a silly bitch of a woman."

Lauren bit her lip, flushing a little, before very quickly asking, "Joy, will you be my girlfriend?"

A moments silence filled the room while Joy stared in utter delight at Lauren and Lauren agonized, unable to read Joy's expression due to her nerves.

"Of course I will!"

Moments later, the two were hugging each other tightly.


	16. Chapter 16

**Almost Christmas! I'm so excited for you to all read the final chapter...though it is a little sad. THERE ARE REFERENCES TO WAR IN THIS CHAPTER, IF THIS WILL TRIGGER YOU PLEASE DO NOT READ.**

* * *

Soon, hours turned to days, days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and months turned to years. Before Tom and Danny really realised it, they had been in the underground complex for three years and were aged twenty one and twenty two. Tom had dropped his puppy fat, and Danny had grown up just a little bit (though not much - he still found it utterly hilarious to make genital jokes or give Tom salt instead of sugar for his tea). They had seen new people come to the underground labyrinth, and a few leave: through death, usually, though one or two had gone by choice.

"I can't believe we're bein' trained for the army." Danny quietly said one morning. The two had been moved to a small room of their own just weeks previously, thankfully close to the Fletcher family room (where Carrie could often be found being a typical stroppy teenager) and to Joy's room, which she now shared with Lauren (the two had gotten together when on the same work duty together for a couple of weeks, and were quite sickeningly adorable together).

"I've got to say, I'm not looking forward to it." Tom replied, biting his lip. "At least the government has stopped looking for us, though, so we don't have to worry as much as we would have done three years ago. I mean, this place hardly even airs our old propaganda films any more."

"Your dad's been in the army since we got here, and he says it's no' that violent, just training to be violent. Maybe it won't be too bad..." Danny trailed off when he remembered the one time Bob had come back from an actual fight with the actual government army, some two years previously.

* * *

_Bob slumped down onto the bunk-come-sofa, a frown on his face as he did so. A small spatter of blood sat glistening iridescently on his cheek, drying fast. He was changed into his normal clothes, but his body was still stiff and tense underneath them, much as when he was saluting at work._

"_What's wrong?" Thirteen year old Carrie asked, gently laying a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, backing into the wall. He shook his head, and Carrie's hand retracted._

"_It wasn't like they said it would be." Bob's voice was raw, as if the pleasingly deep, unaccented layers had been peeled away to reveal the truth beneath._

"_What was different?" Debbie moved slowly across the room, sitting beside her husband but leaving a comfortably gap between them._

"_People died, Deb. Good people. People that I've known since we got here, and a couple that we realised I had known before. I can't do that again, I just can't..."_

_A single tear rolled down his cheek, landing in the blood (was it his own, or someone else's?) and dragging through it, leaving a tram line through the thick, sticky liquid and a reddish tear to hit his khaki army shirt._

_Debbie stood up, fully aware that her husband was broken. "Bob, don't worry. I'll sort this out." Pulling on her shoes, she left the room, and didn't come back for almost two hours._

_After that, Bob never had to go into battle, just work behind-the-scenes, training new soldiers. It was obvious from the wear in his eye when he returned home from work each evening that he still remembered the terrible, terrible things he had witnessed, though._

* * *

"Dad." Tom quietly hailed. Bob looked up from his newspaper.

"Yes, son?" he replied, putting it carefully aside.

"Me and Danny need to ask you a few questions...about the army."

Bob sighed. "I think we'd better go to your room, then. I don't want to upset your mother or sister, or Joy and Lauren for that matter."

The three left the room together, Tom and Danny hand-in-hand while Bob walked beside them, a comfortable arm slung over their shoulder. When they entered Tom and Danny's room (which was significantly smaller and also messier than the Fletcher family room, but still felt cosy and homely, and had a mural on the wall painted by Tom during his scarce free time), Bob pushed the button to eject both benches and the table at the same time and sat on one, indicating that his son and the man that had pretty much become his son-in-law should sit down.

"What do you want to know?" he asked shortly.

"What was it like, actually _out _there, fightin'?" Danny curiously asked, at precisely the same second as Tom asked,

"What's the training like? Is it difficult?"

Bob turned to Tom first. "It's not too difficult. Mostly just fitness training with some lessons on formation and how to handle a gun interspersed in between."

Then, he slowly turned his head to Danny, his eyes hollow. "Indescribable. I mean...imagine being mere metres away from one of your best friends when you watch someone shoot him, and then when he collapses to the floor in agony, stamping on his skull. I watched my best friend's brain shoot out of his skull. Imagine if that was Tom, Danny."

Danny drew back, shocked, and immediately placed a protective arm around Tom, who returned the favour.

"What else do you want to know?" Bob questioned, his voice slightly irritable, a trait very unusual for him.

"N-nothing..." Tom replied, biting his lip. "Do you want to stay here for a while or go back to the family room?"

Bob looked up from his lap, his eyes full of tears and a tremor in his back. "I...I'll stay here for a moment."

Danny got up from the bench, body shaking a little, and fetched a tissue for Bob, who immediately held it up to his eyes and hid behind it like a small child might. Immediately, one thing became clear to the two younger men: war never truly left a person. The taint it left on their souls was permanent.

* * *

"I don't want to be in the army." Tom told Danny later that night. Danny nodded, nibbling his lip.

"I...I don't want to risk ya." Danny replied, staring deeply into the endlessness of Tom's brown orbs. Tom cracked a grin. "Danny, I love you..."

Bending forwards a little, Tom suddenly, and in one clean movement, went down onto one knee and pulled a small cardboard box from his pocket. Flipping it open, he revealed a plain silver band.

"Danny...will you marry me?"

Danny's own crystal blue eyes widened as he stared down at the ring, one which he knew Tom must have stolen for him as there was no way to get engagement rings in the underground world. Generally, people who got married down there were issued with old rings collected from new arrivals at the underground world as soon as they were married, with no prospect of an engagement ring. Tom had obviously gone one step ahead, sneaked into one of the storage rooms and stolen two rings.

"I will." Danny replied, suddenly flooded with a fizzing happiness that reminded him of champagne. Tom leapt up, and with a trembling hand pushed the ring onto Danny's finger, before feeling in his pocket and putting another, similar ring onto his own finger. When they both fit, Tom grabbed Danny into a huge hug and murmured into his ear,

"Who'd have thought the domineering, idiot boss who bruised me with his slaps would have married me?"

Danny chuckled. "Who'd have thought the bloody annoyin' escapee would have married _me_?"

Both laughed slightly tearfully before sitting down entangled in each other's arms, bodies as close as they could manage. Strangely, even such a casual touch felt almost arousing to them both, a sensation which can come to many when they're in love.

"I'd love for you to change that domineering into dominating..." Tom whispered to Danny, suddenly leaning forwards and kissing him passionately, lips searching, eyes narrow. Danny kissed back, before pulling away.

"As long as ya don't try and escape again..." he replied, a tiny, saucy grin on his face. "If you did, I'd 'ave to punish ya."

"Oh dear - I think I'd better escape then." Tom raised his eyebrows, slipping a palm down to the crotch of Danny's jeans.

I trust I don't need to detail what happened next. Needless to say, it was hot, sweaty and involved 100% more sex toys than usual - the previous week Tom had secretly sourced some from the shop and hidden them away for the right time.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the two were finally done, and collapsed back together on the narrow bunk, bodies naked and sweaty. The lights in the room were brightening to a star-like twinkle, making the sweat on their bodies stand out like pale droplets of dew in the early morning sunshine.

"God, I love you." Tom whispered, pushing his fingers through Danny's curly hair and resting his head on the freckled shoulder.

"No need to call me God, Tom. I do love you, though."

This comment made both of them curl up in paroxysms of laughter, their bodies still pressed together.

"We need to back out of the army and sign the waiver as soon as possible, you know." Tom commented, killing whatever mood was left after Danny's ridiculous comment.

"Tomorrow. Not now. I need ya now."

"I need you as well."

The two eventually fell asleep together, Tom's head still on Danny's shoulder while Danny's legs were strewn across Tom's stomach.

* * *

The next morning, after very quickly signing the waiver stating that they didn't wish to be in the army (the man who gave it to them looked incredibly angry, and so they didn't like to stand around), they were alerted to something.

"James is here. James Bourne."

Tom froze, and his skin began to crawl. James. He had forgotten James! Not once had he thought of James, or anything. He grabbed Danny's hand the the two ran to the kitchen where they knew to always find new arrivals. Sure enough, eating thick vegetable stew at the scrubbed table was James Bourne. What a change, however! His body, which had once at least had some muscle and fat, was stripped away to the very bone, with joints sticking out wider than the arms. His face was gaunt, and the bags beneath his eyes spread down to his cheek, and unpleasant greyish-purple colour seemingly seeping away from his eyes, which looked almost yellow. When he heard the door open, he jumped. Joy had happened to be the person who was welcoming new arrivals that day (a job which required little to no effort as there were rarely new arrivals), and was sat on the table, her now bright blue hair sticking out at all angles.

"James!" Tom exclaimed, staring at his friend. What had _happened_?

James turned slowly around, looking shocked, before relaxing a little. "Hi, Tom."

His voice was weak and husky, as if he'd been strangled over and over.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked, and then immediately regretted it. What if James took offence in him asking that? James gave a tiny, tiny smile.

"Y'know, just three years of being Solider Miller's assistant."

Tom and Danny both winced – both had suffered under her cruel hands, and neither wanted to ever see her again.

"Is there any...permanent damage?" Tom asked, his head filled with ideas of scars, scooped testicles, eyes burnt out and all kinds of other awful things. To his relief, James shook his head.

"Except for a few scars, I'm okay. Just a bit skinny. I look like a freakin' skeleton."

Joy very gently took the bowl from James, which was empty, and replaced it with a glass of milk and a banana.

"Go on, eat. You'll feel a bit better. They'll have you on all kind of nutritional programs, so you'd better make the most of free eating while you can." Joy gave James a glimmering smile, which he returned with gusto. He drained the milk and then chewed his way through the banana, but was suddenly, awfully sick, all over the table.

"Never mind! Too much to eat in one go, I expect. I'll get you some toast and tea." Joy cheerfully cleaned the sick away, refusing to accept James' repeated apologies. Then, she carefully made two slices of lightly buttered toast and a mug of milky tea.

"If you don't hold this down I'll spank you, so be warned." Joy gave him a wink with her slightly perverted comment, adding two teaspoons of sugar to his tea with a flourish.

* * *

"What daily job have ya been give'?" Danny asked later that night. As they had backed out of the army, they would be assigned daily jobs to complete, instead of being put on a rota like some of the women and the under 21 workers. Tom opened the envelope with a bite to his rosy lip.

"Cook! Oh yes!" Tom exclaimed, a huge grin splitting his face as soon as he saw it. Danny opened his own.

"I'm- oh my God! Because they know I can sing and play guitar, they want me to teach the kids music! Me!"

The two sat merrily together that night, cheered at the prospect of their jobs so suitable for them.

"I am so totally helping you lesson plan." Tom told his boyfriend, picking up the guitar that the two had saved for for so long back when they first arrived.

"We should write a song that I could teach them!" Danny exclaimed, looking slightly shocked at this rare show of intelligence on his own part.

"I have got a tune that I've been playing around for a while. What do you think of this?"

Tom strummed out some notes, to which Danny immediately shouted, "Brilliant!"

"I'll get some paper and pens from the supply room, you see if you can learn that." Tom strummed the tune out once more before dashing from the room. Often, an evening of inspiration can be refreshing for people, and can bring new light onto situations. As the two strummed and played, creatively adding lyrics and new notes to the song, they felt their love for each other renew, sealed once more by the silver bands on their fingers.

* * *

"Mum? Dad? Carrie?" called Tom, knocking on the Fletcher family door. After a minute or so it opened, with Carrie standing there.

"What's up, smelly?" she asked, grinning.

"Got some news, bumface." he replied, ruffling her frizzy fair.

"Ooh, let me guess!" she exclaimed. "You're pregnant! Gosh, Danny, how could you do that to my brother?"

Tom and Carrie laughed, but Danny didn't, at a loss as to what had just happened. Occasionally, he wouldn't understand Tom and Carrie's shared sense of humour (ridiculous, but endearingly so) and would be left standing there like a third wheel (though, as he had been told as a very small child and had not understood at the time, it is the third wheel that makes the tricycle).

"Yeah, totally. I'm pregnant, Carrie. I'm sorry you had to find out like this." Tom lifted one hand to his forehead, feigning upset.

"Mum and dad have just gone to the shop to get some Christmas presents – they'll be back in a little while. Do you want a cuppa?"

Over the years that they had all lived there, the family had saved and saved their money to make their room more homely. One of the first things they had done was have a sink installed in their room, which cost the earth but was completely worth it. Now they didn't have to go to the communal kitchen every time they wanted a drink, or if they wanted to wash their hands, they didn't have to traipse to the nearest shared bathroom. Since then, they'd also purchased a kettle, seven mugs (one for each of the Fletcher family, one for Danny, one for Joy and one for Lauren) and a wide variety of hot drink powders, which cost ridiculous amounts due to their expense to the leaders of the underground world, but were completely worth it for a hot cup of cocoa at night.

As Carrie prepared three mugs of tea (using the same tea bag for all three – they couldn't afford a teabag each, and usually all had to share one), Danny and Tom sat down together on one of the benches, carefully hiding their shared rings.

* * *

"We've got some news for you." Tom calmly informed his parents as soon as they entered the room. Debbie visibly jumped. "Tom! I- leave the room for like, a minute, so I can hide your Christmas present!"

Tom fled the room, still hand-in-hand with Danny.

"God, I'm nervous..." he murmured to Danny, pushing his free hand through his shaggy blonde hair. Danny rested his face on Tom's shoulder.

"If you're nervous, I'm nervous..." Danny whispered, nuzzling into his boyfriend's neck. The door to the room opened.

"Come on in." Bob grinned. He suddenly focused on Tom's hand. "Are you...are you getting married?" he whispered, looking astonished. Tom nodded slightly.

"Can we tell mum?" Tom asked. "I want to see the expression on her face!"

Bob nodded, opened the door further and welcomed them in.

"Mum, Carrie, we may as well tell you straight away – dad guessed straight away! We're...we're engaged!"

There was a moment of silence before a sudden shriek from Carrie: then, everything happened at once. Debbie leapt at the two men and grabbed them into a huge hug, tears already rolling down her cheeks. Carrie ran at them as well and tightened her arms around the two of them, squealing.

"When are you going to get married?" Bob asked, pushing an arm around his son and soon to be son-in-law.

"We're hoping as soon as possible. In a week or two."

Debbie screamed. "No no no no no! I need time to organise things!"

Tom and Danny both burst out laughing at that, as did Carrie and Bob.

"I am so excited..." Carrie murmured. "Danny, you're like a brother anyway."

At that, Danny's heart melted.


	17. Chapter 17

**A little bit of education on romantic vs. sexual orientation in this...if you have any questions (which you may well do, not many people know about romantic orientation) feel free to ask me! Thank you to the very sexy people that reviewed the last chapter - I really appreciate it! Lastly, if you have any prompts or anything please put them in a review or message to me because I need some inspiration for the new year!**

* * *

Joy was _ecstatic _that she happened to be on clothes distribution on the day that Danny and Tom were assigned to pick which suit they were going to rent for their wedding.

"You two have GOT to have matching ties and pocket squares!" she grinned, as soon as she had babbled to them that she would be with them for the choice. Thoughts of crimson ties against starched cream shirts and matching red dresses for the ladies in the room swam around in Joy's head, overwhelming her.

"Wha'as a pocket square?" Danny curiously asked, making Joy chuckle.

"You uncultured swine! It's the little fabric square that goes in the pocket of your suit – it usually matches the colour of your tie. OH! And I'll be there when you pick your wedding rings as well!"

Danny and Tom both laughed at that. "I'm not uncultured!" Tom protested, smiling. "Danny is, but I'm not!"

Danny pretended to punch Tom's shoulder, smirking at the mock-hurt expression that he immediately adopted.

Joy yanked Tom and Danny into a tight hug. "I love you two losers to bits. You're like my stupid little brothers, and Carrie's the awesome little sister who has a thousand percent more brains than both of you put together."

"Oi!" Tom laughed, pushing Joy away. "Just because you're fashionable doesn't mean you get to call us stupid!"

"Yeah – I mean, I'm practic'lly a _genius_, you can't call me stupid!" Danny chuckled, sending them all off.

* * *

"I've gone through the suits before you got here, and there's a couple that I'm _not _letting you have, no matter what. The white ones, for example. I trust you, Tom, but Danny would spill something down it straight away." Joy grinned, making Tom smirk and Danny give a cheeky little pout that could have melted a stronger woman.

"Tom'd look stupid in a whi'e suit anyway, with his blonde hair." Danny griped, giving Tom's bum a sly pinch.

"I've found three which might suit you two together, and thankfully all three of them have got similar ones so that you look the same, you adorable little munchkins."

Joy scrunched Danny's mophead, grinning at him and sending all three of them into a state of half-teasing, half-companionship, before opening one of the spare storage cupboards. Inside were six suits, sets of two separated out by cardboard slots.

"Let's try on the dark blue one first." Joy suggested, suddenly into fashion mode. Yanking up her skinny jeans over her curvy hips (they had wriggled down with the effort of pre-sorting the clothes), she pulled out two suits which did look remarkably similar. One was smaller than the other, which would probably go to Danny due to his freakishly skinny body. They were each a denim kind of blue colour, and both were matched with white shirts, dark blue ties and equally as dark, 'night sky' blue pocket squares. Slipping into the changing cubicles, it didn't take more than a minute or two to change into the suits.

"My God, you look fantastic..." Tom murmured, captivated, when he saw Danny. It was true: the colours complimented his eyes, the eyes that had enticed Tom in the first place, and made him look like a mesmerising storm. Tom, however, was a different story. Inherently handsome, he looked good in almost anything. Almost being the operative word. In this suit, he looked rather ridiculous. His skin looked sallow and almost yellow under the harsh blue fabric, washing him out entirely. His dark eyes stood out like beacons, making them ugly by default.

"No." Tom said as soon as he saw himself.

"No." agreed Danny, resting a hand on Tom's shoulder. "Definitely no."

The next suit was plain black, with a bright red tie and pocket square. Danny didn't even bother trying this one on - "The red makes my cheeks look proper crimson. I'm gonna look dead daft."

Joy clucked her tongue. "I can see that. Try these last ones, then. If not, we can swap the ties around on this black one."

The last suit instantly drew them to it. It was dark green, with a dark brown tie and matching pocketsquare. This one also came with a little brown waistcoat and a pocket chain, and it was immediately clear even to the fashion-blind Tom and Danny that these two suits were not only _properly matching_, but were also some kind of designer brand.

"I think this one will look good!" Danny called from the changing cubicle as he slipped on the blazer over the top of the rest of the outfit. The two stepped out of their cubicles at the same time, and immediately grabbed each other into tight, passionate kisses: the suit was perfect. Perfect. They brought out the earthiness in Danny's good look and charms, and the sweet sexiness that Tom simply radiated. They looked like husbands in them.

"Perfect! Now get them off, quickly, and I'll put them in the reserved cupboard so that they don't get damaged or nicked by some other hopeful husbands!"

They did as they were told: both feared Joy, just a little bit. Her easy sauciness was a little frightening to everyone.

* * *

It took considerably less time to pick rings: because of Tom's ring thievery, security had been tightened. Each couple was assigned two similar rings, that was it, no choice. Of course, the government in the underground world didn't know that Tom was the one who stole the rings, but they had their own suspicions based on the rings they had seen on their fingers. They had no proof that they were the missing ones, and Tom and Danny could always claim that they got them through trade or elsewhere. They were popular enough that people would back them up - anyone from their work mates to their family.

"They're actually pretty gorgeous rings." Joy smiled, pushing two boxes at them. They opened them, and found two _actually matching _rings, gold with plain decoration engraved into them. Inside of each ring, the word 'Forever' was engraved. They were perfect.

"Thank you for helping us out, Joy. Our wedding is going to be _perfect _because of you." Tom smiled, before turning to Danny and giving his hand a tiny squeeze.

"T-talkin' of our weddin'..." Danny began, with a falter. "Tom has picked James as 'is best man...I was...I was wonderin' if you'd be my best man."

Joy cawed with laughter, clapping her hands together. "I'd love to be your best man, Danny!"

Danny pulled Joy into a warm embrace, with Tom quickly joining them. "I love ya, Joy, like an annoyin' big sister, to go off of tha' daft thing you were on about earlier with us being stupid brother or whatever."

Joy whacked Danny across the back of the head. "I've already told ya how much I...like ya, Dan."

* * *

The night of the wedding, Tom stayed with James and a couple of their friends called Anthony and Michael, while Danny stayed with Lauren and Joy.

"Tom, if you don't drink now, you never will." James laughed, proffering a stolen beer at Tom. Tom usually avoided alcohol, not being a particular fan of it as well as having seen the effects and found them utterly disgusting: what was in any way attractive about a cracking head ache and sickness?

"Ugh, fine!" Tom sighed, accepting the bottle. Without thinking too long or hard, he quickly drank it in one go. It was bitter, and slightly metallic, but it had a warm undertone which was rather appealing to Tom. He didn't object when another bottle was handed to him, and within an hour Tom was completely, utterly wasted.

"Imagine, right, if when I got married Danny turned into a girl!" Tom exclaimed, screeching with laughter. The others stared at him a little.

"I'd forgotten that you can't handle alcohol." James grinned. "I forgot that people build up a tolerance. Oh well, have another one – I didn't nick this many for no reason!"

* * *

Danny, meanwhile, was having a slightly different time. As soon as he arrived, Joy and Lauren began up a weird, sexual tirade. Every time he stood up, someone would pinch his bum or squeeze his inner thigh, which neither would normally do for various reasons. Joy identified as about 90% homosexual, but did have about 10% heterosexual leanings. Romantically, she was split about 50/50. This meant that romantically, she was attracted to both genders (by which I mean male and female, though of course there are many, many more genders than just that) about equally, but sexually, she much preferred females. Lauren, however, identified as homosexual but panromantic. This meant that sexually, she was only attracted to women, but romantically, she could be attracted to anyone. As such, Lauren was not sexually attracted to Danny, and touching him felt kinda weird, and while Joy had the capability to be sexually attracted to him, she wasn't.

"What ya up to, touchin' me?" he asked, with a grin.

"Getting you ready..." laughed Joy.

"...for the grand finale!" finished Lauren. She jumped up and opened the door, shouting, "Sam! Come here!"

Down the corridor, a lithe body ran down the corridor, dressed in tight black boxers and a black vest. Damn. It was Sam, the man that the government down there actually paid to be a stripper for the rather limited hen and stag parties that took place.

"Hey, Danny. I heard that you're getting married tomorrow." he murmured, resting a hand on Danny's chest and making him flush.

"Um, y-yeah."

Sam was wildly attractive. His hair was shiny and black, with clear brown eyes standing out like lights in the clean, dark surface of his face. His lips were a cupids bow, and were coloured like pink watercolour paint just barely stained with some brown.

"Let's go inside. C'mon, ladies."

Sam gently put an arm around Lauren and Joy, before clapping his other one down firmly on Danny's right buttock and propelling him forwards.

"So, Danny, what's your favourite part of my body?" Sam asked, pushing Danny down onto one of Lauren and Joy's benches, grabbing one of his hands and resting it gently on his own firm muscles.

"Uhh..." Danny mumbled, eyes widening over the beautiful body in front of him.

"Let me help you decide..." Sam smoothly told him. Still holding Danny's hand, he ran it down his washboard stomach, over his boxers (Danny was torn between palming at Sam's genitals and trying not to touch them) and down his long, muscular legs. Then, he turned the hand to the back of his leg and pushed up up against the thick muscles, finally bringing it to rest on his shapely buttocks so well encased in the black boxers.

"Your arse." Danny immediately said. Sam grinned, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, really?" Sam asked, eyes narrowing. Danny wasn't sure whether to regret his decision or not, but the prickle of arousal tingling through his groin was slightly unnerving. Sam suddenly pressed on Danny's hand, forcing his fingers to cup the cheek.

I don't think it would be savoury to describe the body feeling and stripping, before Sam suddenly glanced at the clock on the wall, pulled his clothes back on and left with a final slap to Danny's bum.


	18. Chapter 18

**I really like this chapter, and I hope that you do too. I remember that it took me AGES to write because I wanted to make sure I got the wedding scene absolutely right. Please enjoy! :) Also, see if you can spot the reference to CassandraHolly's story 'the one with the maid outfit'.**

* * *

When Tom got up the aisle and saw Danny, he broke.

He didn't shed a singular tear, or shake a little.

He broke.

Spinning around a little, he crouched, emotion overwhelming him. He felt choked by his own tears, and a strange sob escaped his lips.

He was about to marry Danny. His Danny, his beautiful, funny, creative boyfriend. The man that he had once feared, then despised. He was going to be joined forever with this wondrous man.

"You okay?"

A tiny, warm whisper unfurled into his ear: there he was, Danny was there. A hand pulled around his waist and gently pulled him up, almost dragging him to the front of the little marriage room. Tom's family and all of their friends filled the seats, along with more than a couple of curious onlookers who were still not 100% sure that they trusted the supposed tyrant Danny Jones, even after all this time.

"I love ya, Tom." Danny murmured, as he hauled his soon to be husband upwards so that he stood straight.

"I...you're hot, Danny, have I ever told you that?" Tom asked, completely and utterly dazed.

The actual ceremony passed very quickly, as it wasn't a religious one – simply promising to love each other until death and cherish one another forever.

"You may now kiss your husband." the overseer grinned, and the two kissed as they never had before, mouths searching one another. When they broke away from each other, the applause in the tiny room was absolutely deafening.

* * *

Presents were fairly simple: little gifts selected from the shop and wrapped in brown paper bags. The most special gift was probably one from Debbie and Bob, who had spent every spare moments over the last couple of weeks creating a book of memories for the two of them. Sourcing pictures of Danny was easy enough – they had reasonable access to a limited version of the internet down there and the few websites that were still available had Danny in their 'Memorandum' sections, complete with an abundance of photographs. At a quarter of their version of a credit per sheet printed out, they had filled many pages with photographs of him, as well as photocopies (also a quarter of a 'credit') of the photographs of Tom and the family that they had with them. Red, sparkly pen described each and every photograph, purchased for a credit along with a traditional nib pen top.

"Thank you so much..." Tom was crying: of course he was. Danny was as well, and the two looked very similar to they did when they met, only four years previously. The only major difference was their eyes. Each had seen hardships impossible to imagine, and had experienced them to. Memories came to mind – the time when the underground world had missed two deliveries of food in a row due to some issues in the real world, so that they all ended up living on slightly dusty rice and old tinned food by the end of it, the many times that Danny had been whipped, and the one time Tom had been, so many things both in the complex, before the complex and now.

"Tom, have I ever told ya that I love ya?" Danny asked, grinning as he wiped a tear from his eye.

"No, never." Tom deadpanned, making everyone around them laugh.

* * *

No one down there could afford cake – eggs and butter were rare anyway – so instead of celebrating with one, they celebrated by the grooms and six people of their choice being given a special meal. As such, that night Tom, Danny, Debbie, Bob, Carrie, Joy, Lauren and James sat down for bacon and cheese pasta with a _glass of red wine each_. It was the first time any of them had had alcohol in their entire time in the underground world.

"Cheers!" grinned Tom, clinking glasses with everyone. Underneath the table, himself and Danny were holding hands.

"Here's to the two sexiest men in all of the Sectors!" toasted Joy, making everyone laugh except for Carrie, who let out a big, "Ewww!". Moments later, however, she toasted,

"Here's to a long, happy future!" as she took her first sip of alcohol in her life.

Of course, it isn't that simple.

* * *

All married couples were issued with a pack on the night of their marriage, a pack supposedly necessary. It contained a few items of baby clothing (which Tom delighted at, but sadly acknowledged that they would probably never be used down there), a couple of books about marriage and children, a photo frame including a photograph of them during their wedding and a list of new rights and entitlements that they had, including the right to use each other's money in an emergency.

"I wish we could have a baby." Tom murmured, as he carefully folded the minute items of clothing and placed them with their own. Danny nodded. They had discussed it previously and even gone as far as to look into the orphan children living in the underground world, but none were available for adoption or even fostering so it simply wasn't an option.

"Me too. I mean, we coul' probably ask- oh my god! We could ask Joy or Lauren to carry a baby for us, wi' one of our sperm and one of their eggs!" Despite Danny being 'grown up', he still giggled at the word sperm much in the way a thirteen year old boy would.

Tom stared at Danny. "Oh my god, you're a genius Danny!"

Tom ran at his husband and hugged him tightly, pressing his head into the depths of his pyjamas (the two had changed into them as soon as they arrived back at their room) and smelling the warm, musky smell that he was now so familiar with.

"Who, though?" Danny asked.

"What?" Tom replied, pulling back.

"Who would we have? Lauren or Joy? Me or you?" Danny was nibbling his lip, looking concerned.

"Let's think about that tomorrow, love." Tom murmured. "I've got a lot I want to...get through, tonight, and I didn't spend three week's wages on a maid's outfit for nothing."

* * *

"Right, what did you put for Lauren's pro's?" Tom asked Danny. They had decided to write a list of pro's and con's for each girl, and would ask based on who had the most pro's and the least con's.

"She's brave, funny, clever, hot and she stands up for what she believes in." Danny recited, reading from the chalkboard. Chalk and a piece of slate were miles cheaper than paper, so most people had at least one in their room, lying around.

"And con's?"

"She can be moody, she holds grudges, her mam and dad both had cancer so, if that's how biology works, she's more likely to get it - I dunno, I never liked biology, I didn't pay too much attention. Oh, an' she's short. So are we. We don't want a short baby."

Tom laughed. "I think most babies are short, Dan. That's kind of a defining feature."

Danny stared at him. "You what?"

Tom shook his head. "I'll tell you my Joy pro's. I got that she's very intelligent, fun, quirky, attractive and she'd never do anything to hurt a good person. For con's, I got that she can be violent, she's very sarcastic, she's got bad genes from her mum and she can be sceptical"

Tom briefly counted. Danny, doing the same, laughed. "We have five pro's and four con's for both."

Tom nodded. "Who would you want to be the biological mum, disregarding all of those and just picking based on who you like?"

"Lauren." Danny immediately responded. "I love Joy to bits, but I've known Loz for years. Don't forget one of us would have to have sex on a regular basis with one of the girls, if they agree – they don't have IVD or whatever it's called down here."

Tom sighed. "IVF, Danny - and I'd have said Joy. I have got an idea, but it's a bit weird and it means that our kids wouldn't actually be related at all."

"What is it?" Danny asked, confused.

"We ask them both – I try with Joy, you try with Lauren." Tom spoke hesitantly "I mean, that way we'd both be biological fathers, and we'd raise the kids like we were both their dads..."

Danny slowly nodded. "I guess all that's left is to ask them."

Tom agreed. "I think we should wait for a few weeks, though, think about it some more."

* * *

The next month, however, another opportunity of fatherhood arose, which was a relief to both. Both were worried that their potential biological children would love their biological father more than their adoptive one, amongst other things.

"Can anyone interested in looking after a child in the long term please come to the medical room, thank you!" the chirpy voice broke out across the intercom in the early morning, making both Danny and Tom jump.

"We have to see what this is." Tom immediately suggested, to which Danny nodded. Already dressed, the two made their way to the bleak, vast medical room, usually empty except for people collection medication. Today, however, was different. They could hear the voice of a little girl screaming incoherently, and the cold voices of the resident doctors. Apparently, no one else had turned up to the announcement.

"Have you come about the little girl?" a sudden voice asked, making both of them jumped. In front of them was a tall, thin man with a pinched face, who looked absolutely exhausted. Tom nodded. "She dropped down through the entrance of this place a couple of days ago – malnourished, covered in cuts and bruises, and screaming like a banshee. We've sorted out the cuts and bruises, and she's on a special diet, but she just won't stop screaming except for when we gave her sleeping medicine. We're looking for a couple to look after her 24/7 – you'd be paid, of course, to make up for your loss of income."

Tom and Danny dumbly nodded, unsure of whether they were rushing into this decision or not. They had been discussing options to have a child for months, and had agreed to try and get one weeks previously, but this still felt very sudden. Were they ready? Tom settled on the idea that no, they were not ready, but neither were any parents. They were beckoned forwards just in time to see a Nurse viciously slap the legs of a little girl aged about five.

"Hey, don't hit her!" Danny immediately said. He had too many memories of his government 'training', which started when he was just three or four, to condone hitting children. The Nurse looked up.

"You try and get her to shut up then!" she replied, storming away. Danny stepped towards the tiny ball of fury and very gently grabbed her fists, stopping them from pounding the bed. Very suddenly, she stopped, and looked up at him with two huge green eyes.

"Let go." she growled.

"If you stop screaming we can talk about what's making you angry." Danny quietly told her, not breaking eye contact with her. She stared back, and very sullenly closed her mouth tight. Gently, Danny removed his hands from hers and asked,

"What's up?"

"The orphanage people dumped me here and these idiots won't listen to me."

At that point, Tom knelt beside the bed and very slowly brought his hand to rest on her shoulder. She turned to him, her blonde hair tangled around her face.

"Who are _you_?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "You look like a train ran over your face."

Tom laughed. "Thanks. You look like someone dragged you through a hedge backwards."

One of the girl's hands drifted up to her messy hair. "I'm Jessica."

"I'm Tom."

"I'm Danny."

A doctor stepped forwards and Jessica drew back, flinching.

"You can HAVE her! I'll have some clothes and extra supplies dropped off at your room in a couple of hours. What are your full names?"

As Danny and Tom handed over their names and room number, Jessica got out of the lumpy bunk and very hesitantly slipped one of her hands into Danny's, and one into Tom's.


	19. Chapter 19

**There's some serious daddy!Tom and daddy!Danny in this...it's not as adorable as it sounds, though! I hope that you enjoy!**

* * *

"I'm hungry." Jessica announced during the walk to the room that she would soon call her home. "When's the next meal?"

"Do you mean breakfast?" Tom asked, laughing. Jessica replied by stamping hard on his foot, which made him jump. Immediately, he knelt down to Jessica's level.

"Jessica, I know we haven't told you any rules yet." Tom began, the fact that him and Danny would have to write rules suddenly occurring to him. "But that is absolutely no excuse to stamp on my foot. Violence is never okay. Do not hurt anyone again – no one will hurt you, I promise."

Danny stared down at Tom: god, he was good. He was going to be a _damn _good father. Danny had realised this previously, but seeing Tom actually handling a small child they had just met who obviously had some problems with such _ease _settled the idea of daddy-Tom in his mind.

Jessica shifted in her stance, refusing to look at Tom. After a moment Tom pulled her close for a hug (which, to his surprise, she didn't resist but instead kind of fell into) before standing up again, and continuing the journey. When they got to the room, Tom raised his eyebrows at Danny, and Danny gave a slight nod.

"Jessica, we have to talk about some things. I know we've only just met you, but we're going to be looking after you from now on, and we need to sort one or two things out. Would you mind going for breakfast with my parents and sister instead of us? You'd need to meet them anyway." Tom's voice was soft and gentle.

"Okay." Jessica simply replied. "Whatever."

The short walk to the Fletcher family home passed quickly as Jessica walked between them, still holding both of their hands. Neither was sure what to think of her: they were both certain that she'd had a terrible childhood so far, but she really was acting like no child either had ever come across before. Debbie opened the door, and seemed astonished to see a child.

"Alright, Debbie?" Danny asked, grinning and giving her a one armed hug. "Can we ask a favour?"

Debbie nodded, opening the door wider and letting them in.

"We responded to tha' call for people to look after a kid earlier – this is Jessica. We were wonderin' if you'd take her to breakfast with you and then bring her back to our room after – we need to talk."

Debbie's eyes were still wide, and Bob and Carrie behind her looked equally as astonished at the tiny, bony, surly looking girl dressed in a hospital gown. Danny spoke with the smooth charm that had enticed Tom years previously, and Debbie agreed immediately. The last thing Tom and Danny saw before closing the door behind them was Jessica walking straight up to Carrie. This would be..._interesting _to say the least.

* * *

"We're parents." Tom stated. Danny nodded.

"She's a little spitfire, aint she?" exclaimed Danny, grinning.

"How are we going to look after her? We only decided a few weeks ago that we wanted kids! Normally people have 9 months to get used to that decision, we've got twenty minutes!" Tom looked absolutely astonished.

"I dunno. You seemed pretty good with her." Danny slipped a hand into Tom's, leaning close to him.

"I thought you were better." Tom replied, allowing Danny's warmth to comfort him as a thousand panicked thoughts began to mellow in his mind.

"We need to sort out a bunk for her, an' write down rules, an' sort out that package of stuff whenever it arrives..." Danny trailed off a little when he began to feel panicky. Tom pulled him closer, smiling.

"The bunk will take about three minutes, I can write rules – it's not that difficult, and I imagine the package won't have that much in it to start with."

Danny drew back a little from his husband. "Tom, I'm gonna do the bunk, and I'm gonna clean up. You write rules and get us some breakfast."

Tom grinned and nodded. "Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"We're parents. We just _became _parents, just like that."

Danny chuckled. "So we did!"

* * *

When Jessica arrived back, Tom and Danny were expecting to see her looking sullen and moody, accompanied by a probably fraught Debbie. Instead, a cheerful, grinning girl arrived scooped up in Carrie's arms, something underneath her hospital gown.

"Don't lose it!" Carrie grinned, carefully depositing Jessica onto the floor. Carrie turned to her brother and brother-in-law, smiling.

"She loves food, she's ticklish and she likes being tickled and she likes reading. She's bloody good at reading for someone who's what – four or five?"

Tom fondly hugged his sister, ruffling her curly hair. "Thanks, Carrie. Good luck with school today!"

It was near the start of the school year, and because of some moving around of teachers, Carrie had none other than Miss Harris, who immediately took a grudge against her because she was Tom's sister and rather resembled him. Carrie, however, was an almost impeccable student and in the two months she had had Miss Harris, the woman had only had cause to give her one discredit. As Carrie ran away down the corridor to get her school things, Tom locked the door.

"I have something...for you two." Jessica told them, her voice still as loud as ever.

"Wha' is it?" Danny asked, grinning. Before Jessica could respond, she saw that along with the bunk that Danny and Tom squished into every night and the one made up to be like a sofa, there was another, with a piece of slate hanging on the wall beside it. There was a moment of silence before Jessica asked,

"Why can't I swear?"

Danny turned to her, surprised. "Because...because you'll get into trouble at school for swearin'. I don't really understand why swearin' is a bad thing altogether, but some people find it offensive or annoyin', so it's best not to swear."

"What'll happen if I break one of those rules?"

It was then that both Tom and Danny started to suspect that she was a little older than five – she spoke too cleverly and too well to be that small.

"You'll be punished." Tom finally said, still scrutinising her.

"How?" she smiled at them innocently, green eyes wide, tangled blonde hair seeming like a halo in the moment. Tom forced himself to think about the vicious, screaming little girl they had calmed down in the medical room.

"We haven't discussed that yet." Danny quickly said, sensing that Tom was getting a little bit riled.

"I still have something for you." Jessica reminded them. Tom remembered the lump under her hospital gown. Jessica pulled her hand out from inside of her gown, where it had been since she arrived. In her tiny fist were two clingfilmed sausages.

"Since you missed breakfast." her smile was glimmering, her eyes wide and sweet. Danny completely fell under her spell. Taking them, he very gently kissed her head, unwrapped them and ate one, handing the other to Tom. Tom ate his own, still feeling very distinctly that he was being manipulated.

* * *

"Jessica, how old are you?" Tom asked, as the three made their way to lunch.

"I'm eight." she replied. "Just very, very small."

Tom tried to remember himself at eight: a chubby faced, brown eyed bundle of happiness, who loved to sing and act.

"Where did you live before you ended up here?"

"I was in an orphanage – my parents were murdered by a soldier from the Leadership three years ago."

Tom felt bad for her then, even though he still felt oddly as if she was showing them a façade instead of her actual personality. Even if she was being a bit..odd...no one deserved to lose their parents, especially when they would have only been five.

"How did you end up here?"

Jessica laughed then, a sweet, little girly laugh that surprised him. "Matron, the nurse woman at the orphanage, gave me a funny drink. Then I'm suddenly falling down this stupid tunnel and I'm down here."

At that point, they arrived in the kitchen, and Danny carefully picked Jessica up, as if protecting her against everyone else.

* * *

"Oh, William Shakespeare!" Jessica shouted (with, as you all remember, a classical author instead of a swear word). She was in the middle of placing her few new possessions from the little package where she wanted them, and she had dropped a heavy cardboard book (aimed at significantly younger children) on her foot. Danny laughed, which made Tom's heart sink. Not swearing was one of the first rules! Carefully, Tom knelt to Jessica's foot and rubbed the slight red mark that the book had caused, being gently firm just as his own parent's had been when he was very little. Then, he looked directly at Jessica and very firmly said,

"You know that you aren't allowed to swear, and you still did so. The rules are for your own good as well as the good of those around you, and when you break them, there are consequences."

Tom felt weird. He felt very weird. He could remember the exact same speech being recited to him when he was about four, and then years later when Carrie was about six. He knew instantly how to deal with it – the same way his parents did when he was that age. Gently, he picked Jessica up and carried her to an empty corner of the room, standing her to face the wall.

"You're going to stand here until we say that you can move."

Jessica made a noise of indignation and as soon as Tom completely let go of her, she moved away and sat on her bed. Tom picked her up again and put her in the corner, only for her to move away again. Danny was smirking a little as Tom repeated this again, getting many kicks to the stomach and accidental punches to the head as he did so. However, eventually, after about twenty times of returning her, Jessica sighed and stood there, arms folded across her chest.

"What are ya doin'?" Danny whispered.

"It's what my mum and dad did when I was little and I was naughty. I think it's from Supernanny or one of those old shows that used to be on. Shows that we're in charge or something, and gives her chance to calm down. Plus, it's so, so boring – she'll not swear again because she was so bored." Tom whispered back. Danny nodded, eyebrows raised.

"It didn't work when I was at Secondary school. Teacher made me face a bloody blackboard for messin' around - just made me laugh." he commented.

"Yeah, when you were eleven or older. She's only eight." Tom countered immediately. Tom kept his eye on the clock, and after about ten minutes, he called,

"You can come out now, Jessica."

The blonde swung around, arms still crossed, eyebrows raised. "Oh, _thank you_, how generous.". The sarcasm in her voice was practically palpable.

Danny put a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing at the utterly withering expression on her tiny face.

"I would like you to apologize for swearing, then we can go back to what we were all doing and forget that this ever happened." Tom mildly told her, crossing his own arms.

For a second, Jessica looked absolutely incredulous. Then, she pushed a sad expression on her face.

"Sorry for swearing...Tom...Danny..." she mumbled, biting her lip. Tom immediately saw how fake it was; Danny did not.

"Come 'ere for a hug..." Danny grinned, and Jessica immediately did so, hugging him. Over his shoulder, she gave Tom a tiny, menacing smile.


	20. Chapter 20

**Some...sticky...subjects are handled in this one. Just a warning. Nothing major, but there is some pretty big character development. Everything in this chapter is happening for a reason. Oh, and kbeto? This is the Tom chapter that I mentioned :D**

* * *

Over the following weeks, the gap between Jessica and Tom and the closeness between Jessica and Danny became more and more prominent. Even Danny sensed it. His instinct was to ensure Tom was never alone with Jessica, but this proved awkward for him – quite often, in an argument, he had to pick between Jessica's seeming innocence and his trust in Tom. More often than not, he went for Jessica's innocence.

"Danny, don't you get a bad feeling about Jess?" Tom whispered, late one night. Little did he know, beneath them Jess was wide awake, listening hard. through her tiny, pale ears.

Danny shook his head. "She's lovely - you just ain't gettin' to know her well enough!"

Jess grinned below: it was working.

"Haven't you seen the way she treats me compared to the way she treats you?" Tom asked incredulously. Danny sighed.

"Tom, have you ever considered that maybe she treats you differently 'cuz you're constantly having a go at her?"

"No I'm not!" Tom's voice rose a little. "You're just way too lax with her because of your own childhood. She starts school in a week – let's just see what happens then!"

Both were angry at the conversation. Rolling away from each other, neither slept well that night.

* * *

At the end of Jessica's first week of school, Tom and Danny were called in to talk to her teacher, Mr Brown. They left Jess with Debbie, Bob and Carrie – Debbie and Carrie loved Jess to bits, but Bob had doubts which he had privately shared with Tom (which Tom loved him for, because Tom shared the same ones).

"Hello – are you Jessica's fathers?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah, we foster her at the moment."

"I have a few concerns that I'd like to share with you." Mr Brown was an older man, who looked permanently cross. He was, however, very gentle and kind to his students, and had nine children of his own. Danny's face fell, just as Tom's eyebrows shot up.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked. He did like Jess, despite his worries. She could be very witty, and she had had them in stitches on numerous occasions.

"I'll be frank with you. She does very little work in class, she distracts the other students, she is extremely rude when I try and help her and frankly, she is a terrible student to teach. I try and avoid giving discredits because of the result, especially to children who are obviously very damaged, like Jess, but I have ended up giving Jess three this week. I have to get parental permission before I...do the job, after three discredits, which is partially why you're here."

Tom and Danny were both shocked. Tom because he thought that Jess would keep up her sweet, innocent attitude at school, but apparently not. Equally, Danny had thought that Jess was sweetness and light, and was wondering whether there was more truth in Tom's suggestions about Jess than he had previously credited.

"We'll need to think about whether we'll give permission." Tom managed to stutter out. He didn't quite know exactly what he wanted to happen. Generally, he despised violence and the mere thought of a tiny, frail child being beaten with a stick would send sick rising up his gullet. When he thought of how nasty and sly Jess could be (for example, when she gave him the salt pot when he asked for the sugar and then sweetly smiled when he gagged on his tea) he was torn.

"If you could let me know by Sunday night, that would be fantastic." he gave them a little smile. "Jess seems to have made some friends, however, and she can be very charming. I think she may have some personal issues – you should try and talk to her."

"Thank you very much, Mr Brown." Tom smiled at the man as the two left.

* * *

"Hey, Jess!" Danny smiled and picked the girl up that he thought of as his daughter after only a couple of months, arms around her tightly.

"Hello...daddy."

That hit Danny hard. _Daddy_. Jess looked up at Tom, who was trying hard not to let the adorableness melt him.

"Hello, dad." she said to him, which made Danny give Tom a little smug smile.

"Jess, we need to talk to you about school." Tom seriously told her, sitting down at one of the benches to their table. Danny plopped Jess onto the bench opposite, and sat beside Tom.

"Your teacher told us that you're not settling in very well." Tom tactfully suggested, reaching out and gently taking the little girl's hand. Jess opened her eyes wide.

"Really? I'm r-really enjoying school...Mr Brown doesn't like me much, though..." There was a quiver to Jess's voice.

"He said that you've done hardly any work in class." Tom replied.

"He ripped it up and said it wasn't good enough." A tear fell from one of Jess's clear green eyes. Tom knew immediately that she was faking. After their first year there, Tom and Danny had been put into separate school years because Tom was, to be frank, a lot better than Danny at school. He had had Mr Brown during his final year, and had found him extremely pleasant. Even when Tom had handed in bad work (it happened once or twice for Politics, a subject which Tom had a lot of difficulty grasping) he would simply explain what was wrong and advise you on how to do better next time.

"You are lying, Jessica, and that is against the rules." Tom reminded her, giving her hand a tiny, rather comforting squeeze. Jess looked up at him, faux-anger in her eyes.

"You're horrible and I hate you, dad! You never believe what I say!"

Tom probably could have coped with that if he hadn't heard Danny gently murmur,

"It's okay, Jess, I believe you." beside him.

Tom stood up quickly, rage overtaking him. Without thinking, he grabbed Jess by the arm, twisted her up into a standing position and smacked her twice on the bottom. They weren't particularly hard smacks, and honestly hurt Tom a lot more than they hurt Jess.

"I'm sorry, Danny, I know you don't believe in that, but Jess deserved it. I'm going to stay with my family tonight. I'll see you tomorrow, I love you both." Tom carefully measured his voice to a tight minimum before exiting the room with his usual grace, still on the point of bubbling over.

* * *

Immediately afterwards, Jess started to cry. She appeared utterly heartbroken, and Danny rushed to comfort her, but inside she was jubilant. She had pushed Tom over the edge, and had achieved her goal. As soon as she met them, she assessed Danny to be the one who would blindly dote on her, while Tom would be more sceptical. Now, she had what she wanted – Danny to himself for a whole evening, one stupid man to do exactly what she wanted for her. However, something was creeping over her merriment...guilt? Tom had tried hard to be kind. When she expressed her love of reading, he spent a chunk of his saved money on books for her at the shop. When she didn't like the dinner that night, he had bought her sweets from the shop. He had tried hard, even though she had sensed his distrust of her right from the word go.

"Daddy, I want to go and see dad." Jess suddenly said, wiping away her crocodile tears. She was already using those terms of endearment by habit. They were all part of the plan as well, but they just set to make her guilt grow further. Danny looked at her in astonishment.

"But he hit you!" Danny exclaimed.

"I _did _deserve it. Daddy, in school I haven't been doing any work. I've just been sitting there. Dad was right – I was lying."

Danny scrutinised her. "Are you telling the truth now, or are you trying to get Tom out of trouble?"

Oh god. Jess had never stayed with truly _kind _people before, and manipulating them was awful compared to manipulating the usual rich snobs that took on an orphan for a week or two before they got bored. She felt an awful, prickling sensation. They would have been kind to her anyway. Jess began to cry real tears then.

"Let me see dad!" she exclaimed, completely breaking down. That time, the 'dad' was real.

* * *

Meanwhile, Tom had not gone to his family straight away. Instead, he went to one of the communal bathrooms and washed his hands and face, hot, angry tears rolling down his cheeks. The sight of himself in the mirror was a dismal sight: red, flushed cheeks, teary eyes, a twitch in his eyelid. He looked pitiful. He felt it, as well. He had just intentionally hurt a small child. He phrased it as horribly as he could in his head. He deserved that emotional pain. No matter what he did, he couldn't get rid of the image in his head of Jess's shocked expression after he slapped her. Regret, guilt, depression and anger at himself all bubbled up inside of him, sickening him.

"You're a horrible person." Tom told himself in the mirror. Bile rose in his throat and he quickly dipped into a toilet cubicle to get rid of it. When he emerged, Joy was standing there in a towel and brushing her brightly dyed hair.

"Hey, Tom. What's up?" she chirpily asked.

"I hit Jess." he simply replied, blushing further. "Twice."

"She deserved it. She's a brat – no offence. If she was mine, I'd have throttled her by now. Really, you've shown excellent self control."

That made Tom chuckle, no matter how despicable he felt. "She is a brat, but I shouldn't have hit her. That's never the right answer, never. Isn't there some phrase like 'he who throws the first punch has already lost the argument'?"

Joy nodded, reaching in the bag at her side and pulling out a hairbrush, which she began to tear through her freshly combed bright locks (which confused Tom a little - what was the point of brushing AND combing? He quickly dismissed it as a girl thing.). There was a moment of silence before she commented,

"I got hit when I was little – I'm fine, aren't I! I had bloody _Miss Harris _for a mother, and I'm okay - it depends on the person, not the parents! I bet you were hit as well, at least once. Pretty much everyone gets hit once."

Tom rested his head on his hand, memories overwhelming the guilt just for a moment. "Just because we're fine, doesn't mean that it's right."

* * *

_A tiny six year old with a shock of bleach blonde hair sat alone in the playground, humming to himself. A sticker on his bright red jumper read 'Tom' in very wobbly writing. All of the 'gifted' students in his school had been taken to another primary school for a day of quizzes, games and activities designed to use the mind, and Tom was the youngest amongst them all._

"_Hi, Tom."_

_Tom looked up to see three girls wearing blue gingham dresses and blue cardigans. They were eight, maybe nine, and each had similarly styled red hair. They were obviously triplets, but each had something that made them look individual: one had glasses, another had a long scar across her nose and the third had one eye shut, as if her eye had been removed (Tom found out later that she had had cancer, and an eye was in fact missing). _

"_Um...hello." he murmured, too shy for his own good. Suddenly, one of the girls (the one with the scar) grabbed his jumper and yanked him up._

"_Give us your dinner money, now." she spat, the other two girls standing either side so that what was happening to Tom wouldn't be visible inside of the nearby school building. Tom, unusual for him, reacted. He threw out one of his hands and managed to whack the girl with the glasses straight in the face. The glasses, in one terrible motion, swooped from her face and onto the floor, where the glass smashed._

"_I'm telling on you!" exclaimed one of the other girls. The three rushed off, holding the broken glasses and leaving Tom to sit in a paroxysm of terror._

"_Young man, you can go straight home! I am phoning your mother!" the teacher who was dragging him through school (thankfully leaving the very smug triplets behind)was elderly, and Tom happened to notice that the fat on her arm was jiggling like jelly as she propelled him forwards. Tears were choking him, and he had been too frightened to say a word in his defence. After all, he __**had **__broken her glasses, even if she had started it._

"_Sit here!" she firmly instructed, pushing him down into one of the squishy reception seats that you only find in schools. She consulted a list of names of the students there, found him (he was, alas, the only Tom) and quickly typed his number into the phone._

"_Hello, is that Mr or Mrs Fletcher? Yes – no, there's nothing wrong with Tom, no. We need you to come and collect him. Yes, I know it's early. Yes, I appreciate it's inconvenient, but it is necessary. Your son has broken another student's glasses out of pure malice. Yes? Yes, okay. Thank you."_

_After the brief phone conversation, Tom didn't have long to wait. Debbie came bursting in ten minutes later, looking absolutely shellshocked._

"_Did he really break someone's glasses?" she asked, astonished, not bothering to introduce herself to the awful old woman who so obviously delighted in Tom's trouble._

"_Yes, I'm afraid so." the woman spoke with a sickeningly sweet voice now, and held up the frames without any glass. Debbie turned to Tom, looking angry._

"_Come on, Tom, we'll discuss this at home."_

_The old woman looked disappointed, however, she perked up a little when Tom remained motionless in his seat._

"_Tom! You're in enough trouble as it is, young man!"_

_Tom stayed still: he was literally frozen with terror. Debbie moved quickly across to him, grabbed his arm and pulled him into standing. As she did so, she smacked him. It was the only time any of Tom's family ever hit him, and he never forgot it. All because he defended himself._

* * *

It didn't take Danny too long to find Tom when the Fletcher family revealed that they hadn't seen him. When upset, he would usually go to the bathroom and have a private cry in one of the stalls. When Danny saw Tom, any anger at him that he felt vanished. He saw the red eyes, the shaking hands, the pale face.

"Jess wants to talk to you."

Jess stepped out from behind Danny. "Daddy, can we be alone, please?"

Surprised, Danny vacated the bathroom (Joy had already left).

"Dad, I am a liar and a manipulator. I have done all of this to try and get things, like sweets and hugs and stuff. I've never stayed with nice people before, and I didn't expect you to be nice to me just because. I thought I would have to get it out of you, like I have always had to before. I am sorry, I really am, and I want to start again with you and daddy." Jess spoke quickly, her cheeks turning red. She was certainly forthright, if not pleasant.

"I'm sorry for hitting you. I can't even...I was wrong. I shouldn't have done that." Tom replied, kneeling down to Jess's height. Jess snorted.

"That was nothing compared to what I got every time some snobby rich couple returned me to the orphanage. Nothing."

Tom's heart sank: he was all too familiar with that kind of talk from Danny, who had had a very damaged childhood because of his training to work for the Leadership. "I'm sorry, Jess. For everything."

"Me too."

Joy suddenly plunged forwards and hugged Tom, pressing her head into his chest. He picked her up and cuddled her close, feeling a rush of affection for her. Maybe it would be different now.

Maybe.


	21. Chapter 21

"Dad, I am going on this date and you can't stop me!"

Flip forwards six years. Picture two men in their early thirties. One is attractive, with closely shorn hair to try and hide the oncoming storm of grey, and the other is too, but with puffy blonde hair. Danny and Tom.

"Yes I _can, _young lady. You're still grounded from last week!" Tom exclaimed, arms folded across his chest. The girl, Jess, sighed. She was beautiful, really: green eyes outlined in makeup borrowed from a friend, long blonde hair left in waves, curvy body wrapped in black jeans, a white shirt and a waistcoat. Too beautiful.

"Listen to your dad, Jess. You're fourteen! You're too young to be gallivantin' round with some lad-"

"Girl." Jess suddenly spoke up, a flash of annoyance in her eyes overwhelming the pre-existing, typical teenage eye rolling at her father's words. "You mean girl."

Danny wasn't faltered. "Gallivantin' round with some girl. You're fourteen! You're not going!"

Jess sighed loudly. "You never let me do what I want!"

"Jess, we gave you a chance last week when we let you go to that party. You came home roaring drunk! Do you really think we're unfair?" Tom's voice was utterly full of exasperation.

"Grandma let you go to parties when you were fourteen! And your mum did, daddy! You've told me all about them! You even had sex when you were fourteen! All I want is an innocent date with a girl that I like a lot eating crappy food and chatting about everything and nothing at once! I'd be back at nine at the latest!" Jess glared at them, before suddenly turning on her heel and walking out of the room. Danny went to go after her, but Tom laid a hand on his arm.

"She'll be back in a minute. She always is. She's probably just going to cool off."

Danny laughed, a tired laugh. "Why is she so _mental _when you were such a goody two shoes?"

"You've rubbed off on her, Dan. Anyway, while we wait for her to calm down and cheer up a bit, I've got a great idea for a song. I've written some lyrics, but haven't gotten the tune quite right yet."

"Oh yeah?" Danny smiled. "What about?"

"About your dad not approving of your partner, funnily enough."

"Wicked! What do you wanna call it?"

"Have a listen – I'm thinking Down by the Lake, though."

Danny smiled as Tom sang, completely captured by Tom.

* * *

Jess wasn't going to see her girlfriend: she knew that if she did and her dad's found out, she would be murdered. Well, not murdered, but in rather a lot of trouble and probably grounded for a fairly substantial amount of time, which she didn't want. Instead, she went to see a woman who was a great friend of hers, and almost a substitute mother: Joy.

"Come in!"

Jess opened the door and stormed it, still furious.

"Oh, hey Jess. Do you want a cup of tea?" Joy smiled at her. Joy was on a roller coaster into her thirties now, but her hair was still dyed crazy colours. That particular week, it was dark silver, giving her a very natural look that suited her tremendously. Jess nodded wordlessly.

"What's up, buttercup?" Lauren asked from across the room.

"My stupid dads!" Jess exclaimed, suddenly getting worked up again. "They won't let me go on a date with a girl because I got drunk one time!"

Joy laughed, stirring the cup of tea in her hands. "Yeah, but wasn't that just last week?"

Jess shrieked, sounding rather like a dying cat. "Yes, but that's beside the point! I just want to go and chat and eat chocolate with her, not take pot and drink vodka!"

Lauren smirked. "For a start, you don't take pot."

"Maybe I'd know that if they let me hang out with my friends more!" Jess replied quickly, making all three of them crack into laughter for a moment.

"You haven't given them a reason to trust you, so they don't. You got three discredits in one day last week – yes, I know you have Miss Harris – and you got drunk. Now you've left the room when you're grounded. You'll never be allowed to do stuff if you constantly get in trouble. Just go back there, sit out your grounding and then ask politely if you can go and see your girlfriend. If you act like a little delight for the next few weeks, they'll definitely say yes. I've known your dads since they were teenagers, and yes, they can be prats, but they mean well for you."

This unusual bout of common sense from Joy made both Lauren and Jess stare at her. Slowly, Jess got up from where she was sitting.

"Thanks for the tea." she murmured, feeling absolutely stupid that she didn't think to be just simply 'nice' herself.

* * *

"I shouldn't have stormed out and I should listen to you and I'm probably grounded for like an extra decade but I deserve it." Jess babbled as soon as she stepped through the door. Tom and Danny were sat together on their bunk, looking anxious. When they heard that, both laughed.

"Not quite a decade, love." Tom smiled. "Though you're right, you shouldn't have stormed out and you should listen to us – we're geniuses, didn't you know?"

Jess nodded. "That explains me, then. If you weren't extremely gifted, how could you have produced a child like me?"

"Who knows?" Danny chortled. Then, he put a more serious expression on his face. "Me and ya dad had a chat, and you can see this girl – if she comes here. Not tonight – maybe tomorrow, or the day after."

That didn't please Jess at all. How was she supposed to make out with her date in front of her dads? It was a forced smile that twisted her lips.

"Thank you, I'll ask her at school tomorrow what day is best for her." Jess had absolutely no intention of actually asking: just imagining her dads trying to make her girlfriend laugh made her subconsciously shake her head.

"You're grounded for an extra three days, by the way - definitely not a decade." Tom added. "You worried us when you just walked out, and you didn't talk to us like you should talk to your gorgeous, hilarious, beautiful fathers."

Danny struck a stupid pose at that, but Jess couldn't bring herself to laugh.

"Three more days!" she exclaimed. "That means I won't be able to go to any clubs or anything until...the Monday after next!"

The way the Fletcher-Jones family worked was rather peculiar. Due to the fact that all three had very healthy senses of humour, even when Jess was being told off for one thing or another, there was usually something funny about the conversation.

* * *

"Danny?"

"Yes, Tom?"

Tom beamed at Danny before continuing. "I want to go outside."

Danny did a doubletake. "You _what_?"

"It's been almost ten years, Dan. I want to go outside."

Danny stared at Tom, not breaking away his eyes. "Why? We have safety and security down here, as well as family."

"But we can have _more_! We could have jobs! We could go on holiday somewhere hot, and swim in a bright blue pool! We could buy guitars and finally form a band! We could do anything, anywhere, anytime! Jess could grow up like a normal teenager, and not go stir crazy down here. She hasn't been outside in six years! We haven't been outside since we were _teenagers_, Danny." Tom spoke fantastically, his eyes gleaming, a huge smile lighting up his face.

"What if I get recognized?" Danny asked, biting his lip. "Plus, there's the government. Soldier Miller is still in charge, don't forget! The world is crazy up there – every man has to join the army, every child goes to boarding school..."

Tom closed his eyes. "Danny, I know things."

"You what?"

"I passed by an office of one of the official people down here, and just by chance, I saw a bit of paper on the floor. I stopped to pick it up. I read it, because I'm nosey. It's all a lie, Danny, a lie to keep us down here! The world is different! There was a war, a terrible war, and Soldier Miller went missing. The world is better now, like when we were small! And down here, they've been restricting the internet and the TV to keep us here through fear!"

Tom had had this knowledge for almost three months, and hadn't breathed a word to anyone, no one at all. It had been killing him.

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think I want to go as well."

"We couldn't go without James, or Joy, or Lauren, or our family. We'd have to do a lot of convincing. And we'd be starting out with nothing, nothing at all..." Tom trailed off, aware that he was damaging his own point.

"I think everyone would want to go, if they knew the truth." Danny stood up, and took hold of Tom's shoulders. "Are you sure, Tom? Are you really sure? This is a really sudden decision."

Tom slowly nodded. "I'm sure, Danny. I've always been sure."

* * *

Debbie agreed almost immediately, as did Bob and Carrie. Lauren and James both seemed absolutely delighted at the prospect of leaving the tiny, stewing underground world. Jess practically had a fit, screaming with excitement at the idea of _fresh air_.

"I've lived here for so long, though..." Joy murmured, biting her lip as she stared at the eight people in front of her, all of whom looked absolutely excited.

"Joy, do you even remember the real world?" Carrie asked. "Do you remember how the sky looks in the middle of the night when it has snowed, and how everything looks so light even when it should be so dark?"

Hesitantly, Joy shook her head.

"Joy, please. If you hate it out there, you can come back. I'll be by your side." Lauren pleaded. "Just please, please try it."

Joy rested her head in her hands. "Would I see flowers?" she asked. "Would I smell grass?"

Bob rested a hand on her shoulder, smiling. Tears were forming in his eyes. "You could see and smell the world. You could do anything."

Sighing, Joy slowly nodded.

* * *

A few people _had _left over the years, and they were always allowed to. They were even given things to assist them in their new life. A small sum of money in whatever currency was used above ground (it had now gone back to sterling) per person, a few items of non perishable food, a blanket that folded up very small and a large, lightweight rucksack.

"Are you all sure about this?" the government official asked, handing over the leaving packs to the nine people. All nodded, absolutely ready.

"Your check out time is ten tomorrow morning. Just go to the opening, and you'll be let up. It'll be a shame to see so many of you go, though."

The official gave them all a small smile, and as they moved away he waved at them.

"Mum?"

"Yes, Tom?"

"Can me and Danny sleep in your room tonight, like we did when we first arrived here?" Tom's voice was tiny.

"Me too!" Carrie exclaimed. "Fletcher family sleepover – Jess, you too!"

"James, you can stay with us." Joy grabbed James by the shoulder. "Not Fletcher family sleepover!"

They all laughed at that. Their final night underground.

They'd have been better off staying underground.


	22. Chapter 22

**Flirting and unusual words in this one...my two favourite things! Thank you for the sudden influx of reviews! Oh, and now there's only three chapters left including this one - get ready for the end!**

* * *

Jess couldn't believe the outside. She literally could not believe how utterly amazing it was. She hadn't been out there since she was eight, and had forgotten a lot. For example, the way that cold fresh air seems to curl right into your lungs, and the way that grass smells early in the morning. She had also forgotten how bad accidental pain was: as she tripped out of the trap door type opening, she grazed her hands and fresh, natural pain hit her as blood beaded up on her palms. Somehow, it stung more than the cold, calculated pain of the regular beatings of her early childhood or the few that her parents had consented to in the underground land, as well as the necessary pains of injections, scans and operations.

"It's beautiful." she murmured, standing utterly stock still. In her eyes, so used to hardship, it was.

Instead of the mayhem they had expected outside, they found a peaceful residential road, with a few children playing out on it.

"Where do we go now?" Lauren asked, staring around the vast expanse of land. She had completely forgotten how endless the space felt, and how much room there was. You could go for thousands of miles and never run out of space.

"We need to find somewhere to live. We're probably going to have to adopt false names, since Tom and Danny were announced as dead." Bob replied, shifting his rucksack further over his shoulder.

"Maybe not." Danny said thoughtfully. "Since there's a new government we can probably jus' explain what happened. There will be some media attention, I warn ya now – but they'll rehouse us and I will get access to my money again, so I can tide us over in the short term."

"Who do we explain what happened to?" Tom asked curiously.

"We need to find the nearest government building – local government, that is. They'll listen to us, and redirect us." Danny grinned. "I bet ya never thought you'd be takin' advice off me!"

At that moment, they all heard a strange noise from Joy. Turning to her, she was crying.

"What's wrong?" Lauren asked, slipping an arm around her wife.

"I can breath." Joy simply replied, sniffling a little and brushing back her hair, which she had hastily dyed bright, electric blue for the occasion. "I can really breath."

* * *

As it turned out, the government did listen to them. They had known for some time that Tom and Danny weren't dead – Soldier Miller had confessed it before she escaped into the real world.

"We'll find some accommodation straight away – we'll keep you all as close together as possible, as you are obviously close together, and may experience...difficulties without each other. You need some hospital treatment first though, and you do need to give statements. A lot of people still hate you, Mr Jones, despite the fact that we have proven time and time again that you're innocent, and were just a puppet." The woman talking to them was sweet faced and probably about fifty, with curly greying hair.

"Why do we need hospital treatment?" Debbie asked.

"A psychological and physical assessment, a few tests, that's all – just to check that you're okay. You've lived in a confined space for a long time. There might be things like vitamin D deficiency, depression, spacial awareness issues..."

Debbie nodded, gulping. "Where do we go now?"

"I'm just organising emergency transport to the hospital, as well as some police officers to interview you all. There will probably be some members of the press there as well, but don't feel obliged to answer their questions."

"Thank you very much. We appreciate you being so kind." Debbie gave her a glimmering smile before noticing some benches and going over to them to sit down, accompanied by everyone else.

"I'm excited for life. I'm excited for everything!" Tom was smiling wider than he had in years.

Danny could cry with happiness. For the first time in his whole life, he was free.

* * *

The hospital checks took rather a lot longer than they all anticipated. They were each hurried away to separate cubicles, where they were subject to a very hands on test, including muscle squeezing, leg measuring and tooth inspection. Then, they were each given a blood test, and samples of hair and urine were taken, along with swabs of some very...sensitive places.

"You're all healthy enough. There are some problems with spacial awareness, but there will vanish after a while. It's just a matter of getting used to lots of new places again." the doctor, a slim asian woman in her late forties, smiled at them. "You all need to sign these papers, but once you have, you'll be free to go. I think that there are some government vehicles waiting for you."

Everyone, including Jess, signed the papers before following the doctor out to the front of the building. A minibus with an unfamiliar logo stamped on it sat by itself, a sign in the window reading 'Old Government Members and Family'.

"I guess that's for us!" Tom laughed, looking at the notice. His hand slid into Danny's, and the two went up to the window of the minibus and tentatively knocked together on it. The driver, a woman in her early twenties with thin blonde hair, pressed a button and the doors slid open.

"Come on in!" she called, her voice lightly sprinkled with a French accent. Everyone piled in, and the minibus began to roll.

"Do the seat belt up, Jessie." Tom murmured, tapping his daughter's shoulder lightly to grab her attention. Jess looked at him, puzzled.

"What's a seat belt?" she asked, slipping her fingers around the rough fabric of the seat belt itself.

Tom chuckled. "Have you never been on a car before?"

Jess shook her head. "If I have been, I was either drugged or too young to remember."

"A seat belt is something that straps you to the chair for safety." Tom explained, reaching across and gently drawing it across Jess, plugging it in for her.

"That's tight!" Jess exclaimed, pulling the belt away from her body.

"Not as bad as that dress they gave you when you were nine." Danny smirked, popping his head around Tom to grin at his daughter. Jess sighed.

"Every time you bring that up from now on, I'm going to punch you." she told him with a rueful grin, gesturing with her small fists in a half amused, half irritated gesture.

* * *

_Jess sat with her arms folded across her chest, a baleful frown on her face._

"_No. Way."_

_Danny laughed. "C'mon, Jessica, it's just a dress."_

"_Have you even SEEN it, daddy?"_

_Still looking absolutely infuriated, Jess stood up. The dress was bright candyfloss pink, and just about came to the middle of Jessica's thighs. The seam was practically bursting across her non-existent chest._

"_Okay, maybe it is that bad." The grin on Danny's face set Jess over the edge: even after a good eight months living with Tom and Danny, she was sometimes still wild, manipulative, violent and rebellious, much as when she first joined them. Leaping at Danny, she managed to gather enough force together to push him onto a bunk, all the while pounding her fists on his chest. At that precise moment, Tom entered the room, and immediately rushed forwards, dragging Jess off of his husband._

"_Jess, don't hit your father! You know you're not allowed to do that!" Tom's voice was a shout, he couldn't help it. What he didn't expect, however, was for Jess to suddenly dissolve into tears and flop down onto the floor._

"_What's wrong with her?" Tom asked Danny, completely aghast. Kneeling to Jess, he very gently took her hand._

"_I'm sorry if I upset you by shouting, Jessie, I just got quite angry-"_

"_I'm not crying at you shouting!" Jess scornfully said, looking tearfully up at him. "Daddy laughed at my dress. I already KNOW I look stupid in it, I don't need to be told!"_

_Tom pulled Jess close to him into a hug and gave Danny a look similar to one you might give someone who kicked a puppy._

"_Jess, you don't look stupid in it – you never look stupid. It just doesn't suit you. We can get another one sorted out if we go down to the clothes storage room..."_

"_They won't give me a different one unless this one is broken." Jess commented. Suddenly grinning, she grabbed the short hem of the dress and yanked it hard, smiling with satisfaction as half of the dress tore off. Before Tom or Danny could do anything, she had shredded the cheap fabric off of her body and was stood in her vest and underwear._

"_Can you please go for me? I'm a little bit too naked right now." Jess gave them a glimmering smile, and they all began to laugh._

* * *

The flat that Tom, Danny and Jess were assigned was very much a normal, pre furnished two bedroom flat. The kitchen was well lit as well as well equipped, the living room was cosy enough and joined onto the kitchen, the main bedroom was airy and the bed soft, the smaller bedroom comfortable and medium sized, the bathroom clean and crisp looking. To those three people, however, it was heaven.

"We have a bathroom all to ourselves?" Jess exclaimed, staring around the room. She suddenly darted forwards, picked up a bar of soap that had been set out and sniffed it. "Oh my god, it smells of strawberries - do you remember strawberries? Come and have a smell!"

Danny laughed. "I feel like we've just been let out of prison."

Tom nodded. "It's like every decision we make is sudden, except for getting married. Our relationship was a sudden decision, having Jess was a sudden decision, leaving the complex forever was a sudden decision, leaving the underground place was a sudden decision...I just want time from now on."

Danny smiled at his husband and slipped his hand into his, before chuckling.

"What?" Tom asked.

"Our marriage probably ain't valid up here – we migh' need to get married again."

Tom kissed Danny on the tip of his nose. "I have exactly zero problems with that."

* * *

"Danny Jones, did you have any input into the decisions made during your time as Prime Minister?"

The burly police officer pushed their short blonde hair back in a way that reminded Danny very strongly of Tom.

"None at all." Danny's voice was quiet. His skills in pretending to have no accent had totally vanished over the years, leaving him with a pure Bolton accent, only tinted slightly with a few phrases from Tom's vernacular that had rubbed off on him.

"Are you sure? The television footage showed you endorsing it fully." the police officer was, unlike Tom, a smarmy idiot, and Danny immediately started to dislike him.

"Yes, I'm sure! Ya think I'd have these if I had input!" Danny exclaimed, jumping up with anger and pulling his T-shirt up to reveal his scarred back, which was still terribly marked from the whippings so long before. The scars were still purple and still stood out against the pale, freckled skin that had avoided the brutal beatings. Tom still had scars as well, but many fewer than Danny, plus his weren't nearly so big or outstanding: they were just thin reddish lines across his skin that would never go away. Danny's were constant reminders of what he had been through. Danny heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Who did those to you?" the officer asked, finally a trace of interest in his annoying voice.

"Soldier Miller, mostly. A few other soldiers had a go, but the scars are from Soldier Miller." Danny spoke even more quietly now, his voice tainted with sadness.

"I need to photograph these and take a separate statement about them – they may prove an important piece of evidence. If you just stay here for a moment, I will fetch another officer to bear witness and a camera."

The officer left the room, and Danny sank back down into his chair, rubbing his forehead. All he wanted in that moment was to be in Tom's arms, to see those liquid brown eyes, that sweet little mouth, the tufts of soft blonde hair. He longed to be with Tom, and to be able to take comfort from him. Although Danny didn't like to admit it, he was to some degree broken – mentally, that is. Stress, physical pain and years of lying about the government had created a fractured corner of his mind that Danny doubted would ever heal.

"Hi again, Danny." sickeningly sweet and welcoming. The officer was clearly excited to have 'discovered' such a fantastic piece of evidence. He was now accompanied by a bored looking woman in her late thirties, who was too busy messing with her short black hair to say anything to Danny.

"This is Officer Emily Shek, she will help you angle yourself so that the camera can take the best photographs of your back."

Officer Emily looked up as she slid a perfect pink painted nail into the corner of her mouth.

"Take your T-shirt off and stand right by that wall." she instructed, her voice dull and monotone. Danny obeyed quickly, not in the mood to mess around or flirt with her as he so often did with new people.

* * *

_Leadership Puppet Tells Story!_

_Danny Jones, now in his thirties, told reporter Emily Shek and her friend Officer Mitchell Jones about some of his experiences as a puppet to the Leadership, the notorious government that almost destroyed all of Britain's relations with other countries._

"_I didn't have any input." Danny claims. During the interview he also revealed horrific scars (pictured left) from whippings administered by the leader of the Leadership who directly followed Danny Jones, the woman now believed dead, Jaida Miller. Turn to page 6 for the full story._

By the time Danny head read the entire article (which contained a lot of information very obviously copied from the internet biography of him) he was crying with laughter. Those stupid officers had sold his story, probably for a lot of money.

"Tom..." Danny couldn't finish his sentence, however, as he was practically sobbing with laughter by this point, his voice breathy, his cheeks red. Tom entered the room, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. "T-...read thi' article..."

Tom gave Danny a suspicious look before picking up the article and reading it. After quickly finishing brushing his teeth, he turned to Danny.

"Didn't it upset you?" Tom asked. Before Danny could respond, Jess entered the room.

"Have you seen what's happened?" she asked, eyes wide.

"The thing about me giving an interview?" Danny asked, still laughing hard. Jess shook her head.

"What has happened?" Tom curiously questioned.

"People have set up a fund to try and find Soldier Miller because of what she did to you – they've already donated £100,000!" Jess's eyes were wide, and she looked utterly astonished. When she saw the disbelief on Danny and Tom's face, she grabbed each of them by the arm and dragged them to the computer kindly donated by a fan of theirs, which was kept in Jess's room because she used it most. On the screen was a kickstarter page. Sure enough, the total was just over £100,000, way beyond the £1000 target.

"Look what happens when you refresh it!" Jess smiled and refreshed the screen. The total had suddenly jumped to £129,847. Danny and Tom both looked absolutely shocked. In that moment, there was a knock to the door.

"I'll get it." Tom volunteered. Dressed in colourful boxers and a t-shirt (his pyjamas – after having the same pair of pyjamas for years when living underground, plus the same clothes for his entire life back in the Leadership bunker, he loved the freedom of not having a specific set to wear), he opened the door. There was Debbie, with Bob close behind her.

"Tom – people have been posting envelopes of money through our door. Someone has released our address online, and people are taking advantage of it. It's only a matter of time before someone sees you or lets your address be known."

Tom gave a confused shrug. "So?"

"Soldier Miller! You think that she'll just let you and Danny go? She'll be after you!"

* * *

"Tom, I think I'm cheiloproclitic." Danny declared from his position on the sofa. In his lap was a book.

"You like lips? Creeper." Tom didn't look up from the pasta he was stirring.

"Well, sorry that I ain't quidnunc like you!"

Tom laughed. "I don't think you know what you're saying, babe. I don't always have to know what's going on, like you just suggested. I'm not asking you how you suddenly became intelligent, am I?"

"Oi!" Danny chuckled. "You're an ultracrepidarian if you think you can talk about my intelligence!"

"Did you swallow a dictionary?" Tom asked, chucking a piece of pasta at his husband, which landed between the pages of the book in Danny's hands.

"I love it when ya ask me questions like that." Danny gave what he thought was a sultry stare but looked remarkably like a constipated duck. "I want to apodyopis you!"

"No wonder I felt gymnophoria." Tom replied off handedly.

"You what?" Danny asked. Apodyopis is the act of mentally undressing someone, which Danny had written in the book of unusual words in front of him. Gymnophoria, the sensation that someone is mentally undressing you, was not.

"This is going to turn into a cagamosis if you carry on being such an idiot." Tom smiled as he stirred the sauce, well aware that he was completely confusing Danny. Cagamosis is an unhappy marriage, and Tom silently thanked his Year 10 English teacher for being such a nut on unusual words.

"You're an idiot!" Danny exclaimed, throwing the book on the floor. "I hate you!"

"Now, now." Tom chastened. "No need for lalochezia."

Lalochezia is using abusive language to relieve stress. Danny was more inclined to grab Tom and whack him over the head now that he didn't have his book, however.

"This better not be...sphallolalia!" Danny exclaimed, smiling at the fact he had remembered a word from the book. Sphallolalia is flirting that leads nowhere.

"You remembered a word from that book? Well done!" sarcasm dripped from Tom's voice. "I'm feeling basorexia right now, which in case you don't know is a strong desire to kiss, and our daughter is with my parents. This definitely isn't sphallolalia."

Tom quickly dished up two bowls of pasta, put clingfilm over the steaming bowls and turned the oven off before turning to his husband.

"I love it that you're so clever..." Danny murmured, staring directly into the warm eyes of his husband.

"I love it when you try and be clever and you completely fail." Tom replied, grinning. "You don't fail at being utterly ravishing, though. I don't need to explain that one."


	23. Chapter 23

**Penultimate chapter! Ooh, I'm so excited for you to see the end chapter! Also, on Christmas Day itself (UK time) I'll be publishing a short, Christmas-themed oneshot, so look out for that!**

* * *

"Danny?"

"Yes?" Danny looked up from his book, the light of the bedside lamp shining softly across the white pages.

"I've written a song – do you want to hear it? It's called 'Foolish' – I like it."

Danny nodded, so Tom grabbed his red guitar from beside the bed and began to play. Even after years without their instruments, both men could still accurately play the guitar (as could James), and if anything their singing and songwriting had been honed and improved over the years. They had a large pile of songs between them. To their delight, Jess had began writing songs as well, and Carrie had already released a few songs which gained medium success because of her online following. Shortly after they started their new lives, Carrie found a website where you could post videos of yourself, and began to do so. Joy and Lauren were running a hairdressers together, with Joy doing the practical work (so that she had someone to practise on other than herself) while Lauren kept track of the accounts. James was songwriting with a couple of other guys who had been working in the government, both of whom have already been briefly mentioned, Matt and Charlie. They called themselves Busted, and were pretty good. Debbie and Bob had both fallen straight back into their same old lives, and had already gotten cats and a dog. It was as if everyone had found their callings except for Danny and Tom, who had nothing to do except for appear in the media and write songs.

"I love it." Danny honestly told him once the song was over. "I genuinely adore it."

"Wow, you sound clever, using words like 'genuinely'." Tom teased, bracing himself for the inevitable joking whack on the head from Danny.

"Tom, we need to do somethin' with the songs we write. We've got enough to fill an album, maybe two or three. We need people who play bass and drums, people who feel what we're writin'."

Tom did a double take at Danny. "Oh my god, that would be so cool!" a grin spread across the slightly older man's face.

"People woul' be bound to come along because of who we are, as well." Danny was smiling so widely that the skin of his lips was cracking like when you have a cold. Tom nodded eagerly.

"We could put adverts for members in newspapers, stuff like that – we've got more than enough money from all the TV we've done, as well as the compensation they issued...oh my god, this is going to be so, so awesome." Tom looked as if he was about to jump out of bed there and then to get things started.

"Let's go to sleep for now." Danny suggested, smiling at how adorable his husband was when he was eager to do something. "We can do proper plans tomorrow."

Tom nodded, his bright eyes wide and lips slightly parted. "I love you, Danny."

"I love ya too, Tom."

* * *

_WANTED!_

_Bass players and drum players, aged mid twenties to late thirties (male only, please), to audition for a band with Danny Jones and Tom Fletcher. Must be able to play your instrument well, vocals or other instruments are optional. Drum kit will be provided at auditions, bass guitars will not. See details below!_

Tom smiled at the ad that came shining up at him from a whole variety of websites and magazines, with a tentative idea for a logo underneath. The auditions were in one week, and they would be held all over the country. They had even put a deposit down on a flat in London for the bandmates to share when on business, as they understood that sometimes they would have to stay away from their families through necessity - not that they _wanted _to stay away from home, but it would be necessary at times. Just because of Tom and Danny's involvement, they had already been offered countless management deals, as well as record deals.

"The ads have gone out!" the chipper voice told him down the phone. One of their new managers (it felt weird to think they had managers), Fletch, was eagerly keeping track of their progress The other manager was called Richard Rashman. Tom and Danny had selected these two as they were also James Bourne's band's, named Busted, management.

"Thanks, Fletch – how are me and Danny getting to the auditions? Are we getting trains or something?"

Fletch laughed down the phone. "You'll be picked up and driven to each one on the day, and then to your hotel for that night. Lots of the auditions are at the hotels themselves, though, so a lot of the time there won't be much travelling in a day."

"Wicked, thanks Fletch." Tom was about to put the phone down when Fletch began blabbering about something or another. According to James, this was a pretty regular occurrence: Fletch was a talker, and talk he would.

"Tom!"

Tom turned and quickly hushed Danny, half-listening to Fletch. When he eventually managed to get the phone down, he turned properly to his husband, face tilted in question.

"Nothin's up, don't worry. Just wonderin' if you could have a chat with Jess – she's seemed a bi' down since we first got here."

Tom nodded. "I noticed that as well. Have you tried to talk to her?"

Danny laughed and pointed to a red mark on his nose. "She slammed the door."

"Are you okay?" Tom rushed over to his husband and tenderly touched the sore spot. Danny swatted him away, grinning.

"I'm fine – it was my own fault, I walked into the door after she'd just slammed it."

Tom shook his head with mirth at his rather idiotic, but always lovely, husband. "I'll go and talk to her."

* * *

"Hey, Messy-Jess, what's up?"

Tom opened the door to his daughter's room a few seconds after his knock received no response. Lying on the bed, head in her pillow, was Jess. Even her stupid childhood nickname hadn't elicited anything from her. Tom heard a sudden sniffle from her, so immediately went and sat on her bed, resting a hand on her calf.

"Jess, talk to me." Tom murmured, feeling a sickly sense of upset overwhelm him. His daughter was crying on her bed and he hadn't known – he'd stopped to laugh with Danny. Jess slowly rolled onto her back, one hand over her eyes to hide her obvious tears.

"Everything's changing..." she mumbled, her voice hoarse and cracked.

"What do you mean, Jess?" Tom's voice was full of concern, his body hunched. He had never seen his daughter in a state like this before.

"I've never stayed anywhere for too long! I lived with my parents, then they died. I lived in an orphanage, and then I got dumped. I lived in the underground place, and I thought I was okay with leaving there, but I'm not. I miss always being around my family. I miss feeling safe. I never get chance to get used to something – it always gets snatched away! Even now, you and daddy are going searching for bandmates and so I'm going to end up staying with grandma or Joy or someone, not at home!" Jess spoke quickly, her eyes on her jeans. "All I want is to feel like I'm going to stay somewhere forever! I never feel like I have a home, just somewhere where I'm going to stay temporarily before I get parceled off to another place!"

Tom involuntarily smiled at Jess's use of the word 'daddy' in reference to Danny – she rarely used that term any more, being almost fifteen and rather a young lady. Then, he pushed himself back to the situation. Awkwardly resting his hand on his daughter's, he began to speak slowly.

"Jess, you are _always _me and Danny's top priority – you're our daughter! It's just that sometimes we need to do things for the greater good – things that benefit everyone! Your school here is much better, and you get to do so many more things than you did before. When we find bandmates, we're going to come straight back here to look after you. I promise you, this is the last big change."

Jess looked up at Tom through damp lashes, her mouth downturned. "Dad, I don't know how much longer I can cope with it all. I feel so sad _all _the time...I've looked it up, and I think I might be depressed."

Tom understood that one, alright. During their time underground, he had been diagnosed as bipolar, a diagnosis which had been confirmed during his psychological assessment once they came onto solid ground once more. He understood the awful, painful depression. So did Danny, through Tom – he'd stayed up for just as many nights as Tom, comforting the misery-filled man and trying to lead the conversation away from thoughts of death and destruction.

"If you're depressed, we need to get you help, love. Trust me on that one – if we don't, it'll lead to bad things. I mean, really bad – terrible."

Jess nodded, a tiny smile appearing. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Can I come to the auditions? Just to watch them? It's half term when you're doing them, so I wouldn't miss any school, and I could bring my homework along with me. Please, dad – it means the world to me."

As Tom nodded, thoughts of drinking and wild, sex-fuelled nights with Danny vanished and were replaced with images of the sudden smile on his little girl's face. The smile was way more important than anything else. Thoughts of Jess's tiny, impish face when they had first got her filled his mind. Thinking about it, he hadn't seen that natural cheer in a while. Affirmed, he gave another nod before hugging his daughter tightly.

* * *

"We should bring extra strings – you know as well as I do that one of us'll break a string while we're there, and at least one of the people auditioning will beg us for a spare string." Tom commented as he zipped up his suitcase. Danny nodded.

"Plectrums, an all." the younger man quickly slipped a packet of strings and their little box of plectrums into his bag before zipping it up.

"I'm so excited." Tom flopped onto the bed, an exhausted smile on his face. "We're going to have a band."

"I hope we get some really good people auditionin', not jus' people who saw our names." Danny followed his husband onto the bed, wiping sweat from his brow: since they had left their old, underground homes, they had gotten unused to physical exertion. Running around the flat like a mad person trying to find everything for their suitcases had taken its toll on both of them.

"I wonder if Jess has packed." Tom went to stand up but then lay back again. "Too tired to go and check. Jess!"

After a few moments, Jess sloped in, hands in pockets. "What's up, dad?"

Tom laughed. "Nothing – have you packed your case?"

Jess nodded. "I've been packed all week. I'm organised, unlike _some _people."

"Oi, cheeky!" Danny grinned and chucked a throw pillow at his daughter (this was a pun he had made before - "Well, they're not called _throw _pillows for nothin'."). Jess easily caught the pillow and chucked it back, aiming it so that it landed right on Danny's face. Soon, an all out pillow fight was underway between the two, with Tom crouched on the floor, occasionally throwing away a pillow that hit him by mistake. The doorbell disturbed them in their idiocies.

"Must be Fletch and Richard." Tom suddenly said, with relief. Dashing out of the room to avoid final pillow missiles, he opened the door. There was Fletch, tapping away into his phone.

"Are the three of you ready? I'm sorry I'm late, I was-"

Uncharacteristically, Tom interrupted him. "It's fine Fletch – we're all ready. Danny! Jess!"

The two came out of the bedroom slightly red faced. Danny was dragging his own suitcase as well as Tom's, while Jess had a suitcase, a guitar case and a shoulder bag.

"Come on then – it's a five hour drive to the first audition, in Scotland."

Immediately, both Danny and Jess started to try and imitate a Scottish accent, sending Tom off into peals of laughter. Love pumped through him as he looked at the two people, both of whom he had once mistrusted, even disliked, but now adored more than anything else.

* * *

The hotel itself was pretty vast, but not exactly posh. Fletch had booked one of the 'suites' for Danny, Tom and Jess – a living room with a sofa bed connected to a little bathroom and a separate bedroom.

"The audition is tomorrow – do what you want until then. I'll come and get you tomorrow morning."

With that he left, presumably to do his own things.

"Jess, don't bother unpacking – we're only going to be here for a night and a day before we have to drive to the next hotel for the next audition." Tom called to his daughter from the bedroom as he noticed her removing clothes from her suitcase.

"Can I go and find some food?" Danny suddenly pleaded, fluttering his clear blue eyes at Tom. "We're all 'ungry..."

Tom laughed. "Bring back something with at least _some _nutrients, Danny. And no, Jess, you can't go with him – I know you're fourteen but you've never been here before and you still have problems with your spacial awareness."

Jess sighed, turning a little red. Because she'd been so young when she began living underground, she suffered the most when it came to judging spaces and room. She constantly bumped into things as a result, and was quite apt at misjudging where something was and breaking it – she'd already managed to put her hand through two different windows back home.

"Can I at least go and buy some drinks from the vending machine in the hall?"

Tom sighed and nodded. "Don't forget that your dad can get through about eight cans in an hour – here's some change."

* * *

"What's your name?"

A skinny, slightly ropey looking man in his late twenties or early thirties, hair dyed purple and lip ring present, stepped up with a bass guitar that looked vaguely familiar to Tom. The man himself did as well, but he also looked like some wannabe trying to recapture his youth.

"I'm Dougie Poynter."

Tom's eyes opened wide. "Dougie?"

Dougie nodded, smiling. "Hey, Tom. I'm still playing on your old bass. Do you want to hear some?"

Tom gave a silent nod, not saying anything to the confused Danny, nor the management. Dougie suddenly burst out playing the bass, his hand going all over the fret as he played wonderfully complex stuff. It was amazing – and then he opened his mouth and began singing. If he got rid of the lip ring and the hair dye, he'd already be perfect. When he finished his song and the last chords of the song played away, Danny, Tom and the management turned to each other, mouths open either with astonishment or delight.

"Right?" Fletch asked, and the other three nodded.

"Thank you, Dougie, would you please go and stand on the right side of the room."

Their plan was to make the best players stand on the right of the room, and the definite no's on the left. That way they could easily dismiss those that weren't good enough without any hassle. As it stood, only two other guys joined Dougie: a bloke in his early thirties called Martin and a tall, spindly guy who was absolutely _astonishing _at bass called Henry but who was also very squat, ugly and had a reedy voice that couldn't sing to save its life. The drummers came next, and the first to come up was a guy fairly close in age to Tom called Harry (remember the man who kept me in his home for one night named Harry Judd?) who was pretty damn good at drums, but gave a rather...interesting vocal performance of a just-released Busted song called 'Year 3000', getting the vast majority of the lyrics and most of the notes wrong. Never the less, he joined Dougie, Martin and Henry, along with one other drummer called Paul who was pretty good and looked just about right for the band's image.

"Thank you to everyone on the left, but you're not quite what we're looking for – thank you for coming."

The men on the left all left within a couple of minutes, some grumbling, others chatting with new found friends.

"There are five of you left. Two of you could potentially be massive stars...at least three of you will not. There are more auditions all over the country, after which the best auditionee's from each one – including you five – will come to a final audition in London. There we will pick our drummer and bassist. We'll call you and let you know when the audition is. Thank you."

Fletch spoke loudly and confidently, smiling at the five men. As they went to leave, he grabbed Dougie's shoulder.

"Dougie?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a favourite right now. Lose the lip ring and get your hair back to normal and you'll have a much better chance."

The young man grinned, ruffled his hand awkwardly through his dyed hair and nodded, before giving Tom a half wave and leaving the room.

"A lot of talent, as well as some...less than talented people." Tom commented, grinning. One man in particular stuck in all of their minds: he had arrived with bells attached to his wrists that jangled as he garbled his way through a basic, root-note tune on his bass. None of them had been able to stop laughing at his pitiful performance, and he had stormed from the room halfway through, growling like a dog.

"Unless we see someone truly amazing, I think Harry's th' one for us." Danny commented, absent-mindedly shuffling the papers in his hands. Tom eagerly nodded.

"He felt right, as well." Richard replied. "He was talented, but he fit in as well."

"How d'ya know Dougie?" Danny suddenly asked Tom with interest. Tom chuckled.

"I sold him his first bass guitar." Tom suddenly laughed loudly. "God, imagine if I hadn't!"

"He just needs to change his look a bit." Fletch mused, stroking his chin. "Otherwise, he's pretty perfect."

"I kinda hope we don't fin' anyone better, 'cus they're awesome!" Danny's comment attracted nods and noises of agreement from all involved.

* * *

The other auditions progressed quickly, and soon they realised that they weren't going to find any men who fit as well as Dougie and Harry apparently did. There were blokes who had the look, but could barely play bass or drums. Equally, there were absolutely amazing players who didn't fit in with the hoped band image at all.

"There's – oh god – fifty two people to come to the final, weekend audition." Tom winced at the list. "And we promised them at least half an hour each to prove their talents. That's twenty six out of seventy two hours devoted just to them."

Danny shook his head. "If we split it between of us – each take a manager as well – it's only thirteen hours each."

"I can guarantee that at least ten of them won't turn up." Fletch suddenly broke in. "There's always a load that don't turn up."

Tom sighed with relief. "Thank god. Thank. Freaking. God."

"Tom?" Danny spoke quietly.

"Yeah?"

"It's been forever."

"What's been forever?" Tom was confused.

"Everythin'. Meetin' you and lovin' you and livin' with you...we even went to school together for a year – I mean, that's a long time." Danny was staring down at his twiddling fingers, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Before Tom could say anything, Richard entered the room and began talking.

"We need to leave in an hour – are you packed?"

Tom and Danny nodded. "Jess is as well." Tom told him, blushing furiously at Danny's words.

* * *

"Dad, I'm bored." Jess moaned from the back of the car.

"Which dad?" Tom smirked, a joke from when Jess was first with them that him and Danny still found hilarious, but Jess was long tired of.

"Either of you – I'm boooorrrreeeeeddddd." A theatrical groan escaped her lips.

Danny laughed. "It's only a coupl'a hours more."

Tom braced himself for the inevitable squeal.

Jess squealed.

"That's ages! Two whole hours?!"

Tom snickered. "I can practically hear the interrobang at the end of that sentence."

There was a pause before Danny and Jess simultaneously asked, "You what?"

"An interrobang! It's a grammatical symbol for when you put a question mark and an exclamation-"

"Tom?" Danny interrupted.

"Yes, Dan?"

"Be a dear and shu' up."

Jess laughed, before directing the conversation back to the point in hand. "I'm bored."

"Do some of the homework that they gave you to do." Tom suggested, rubbing the back of his neck. He was bored himself, to be honest, but he wasn't about to admit it.

"I've finished it, and emailed them to send some more. I've done the stuff they emailed back." Jess sighed theatrically. "And I don't have my MP3 Player, so I can't listen to that."

Tom and Danny both laughed outright at that: they had her MP3 Player and had already told her that they weren't returning it until they got home because she had snuck out of the room in the middle of the night to hang out with a group of local lads and girls. Tom had woken up, found her missing and immediately gone out to try and find her, after letting a sleepy Danny know what was happening, and had found her within five minutes by the front of that hotel, making out with some lad while the other people there egged her on. To be honest, Jess was surprised that she wasn't grounded as well as losing her MP3 player, and was absolutely _astonished _that she still had her laptop. No matter how cool her dads could be, they were also incredibly strict most of the time.

"Shouldn't'a gone out with them boys, then." Danny smiled. "Consider yourself lucky tha' you have your laptop."

The laptop had been another present from a fan, and Jess passionately loved it. As already stated, she actually _was _very grateful that she still had it and it hadn't been demoted to the bottom of one of the suitcases until they got home.

"I'm hungry, as well." Jess moaned, eyes wide. Tom fiddled around in his bag for a moment before fishing something out and thrusting it at her. Disdainfully, Jess passed it back. It was one of those compressed fruit bars, which Tom (as resident 'responsible' one) carried in his bag at all times, along with batteries, a bottle of water, a packet of spare money and, since Jess had been about ten or eleven, a couple of sanitary towels. He was prepared for all eventualities, except for a tired, petulant almost-fifteen year old.

"If you don't want that, you'll have to wait, love." Tom was beginning to reach the end of his patience, as was obvious by his short, sharp words. Jess, who could be wonderfully oblivious at times (something which she claimed had rubbed off on her from Danny, and thus they couldn't blame her for it), continued her tirade.

"C'mon, dad, can't we stop at a service station – you could get a coffee, as well!"

Danny laughed and rested a calming hand on Tom's sleeve, noticing how annoyed he was getting with their daughter.

"Jess?" Danny spoke loudly now, humour still in his voice.

"Yes, daddy?" Jess angelically asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Shu' up."


	24. Chapter 24

**Mild trigger warning. This is the final chapter. Prepare your tissues. Quite honestly, it has been utterly delightful seeing your responses to this story, and I am really glad that you liked it. I am really proud of it. Feel free to hate me for the ending of this story!**

* * *

"Dougie, Harry, good to meet you properly." Tom stood up, ignored the proffered hands and hugged both of them tightly, shortly followed by an equally as enthusiastic Danny. Harry looked much the same as he did at his first audition except for a new haircut, but Dougie looked totally different. His formerly purple hair was light brownish blonde, and his lip ring was replaced with a tiny scabbing-over hole, which was unappealing but a lot less...chavvy...than the ring had been. He was even dressed more smartly, in black jeans and a tight black T-shirt which emphasised his muscles - however, his muscles paled into insignificance compared to Harry's bulging biceps and triceps, so taut beneath his clothing.

"Hey, Tom, Danny." Harry smiled at them, rubbing his fingers through his now closely-shorn hair. "Hey, Dougie."

Tom almost laughed out loud when he saw the looks that Harry and Dougie were exchanging: if they weren't together by the end of the first week as a band, he would be absolutely astonished. Hell, if they weren't making out within the hour, he'd be shocked.

"Hi, everyone." Dougie grinned, making them all laugh, though none were sure quite why.

"We've got some songs...jus' have a listen to these." Danny awkwardly handed them each a CD. "It's'a load of the best songs we've written since we were teenagers."

Harry nodded. "Do we need to start learning them?"

"We can start all that tomorrow. Tonight, I suggest pizza and beers." Tom smiled at them. Dougie shifted uncomfortably.

"Um, Tom? I don't... I used to have problems with alcohol and drug addiction...I don't drink any more, obviously." Dougie was practically cringing as he stood, cheeks going red very quickly as he focused on the floor beneath them.

"That's cool – we can have something else, instead." Tom immediately replied, making Dougie flush with pleasure at the word 'we'. They certainly were trying their hardest to make Harry and Dougie feel welcome.

"Our daughter'll be there, but she's in her teens, so it's not like you have to be _too _careful with what ya say – jus' don't make really filthy jokes." Danny recited the rule that Tom had set after ten year old Jess had been awarded an instant three discredits for repeating a disgusting joke that Danny had told her within earshot of her teacher.

"That's cool – me and my ex wife had a girl as well, but she's only nine. Some of the time, if I'm looking after her for a weekend or whatever, she might have to come along to practise or to the recording studio or whatever." Harry off-handedly remarked.

"Jess will as well – it'll all be fine, kid-wise."

"I've got a boy – he's only four, though, so he's not really old enough to be near really loud music." Dougie's voice was quiet, but Tom, Danny and Harry all sensed that when he started to get tired, or if he was on a creative high, he would come out of his shell a little. Plus, Tom already knew that he could make extremely rude jokes at times, and his repertoire included many instrument-based jokes - when Tom had sold him the bass, Dougie had made several comments about fingering and strumming which had made Tom simultaneously cringe and crack up with laughter.

* * *

"I wond-wonder if I could catch a whole slice of pizza in my mouth." Harry's voice was breaking from laughing so much, cracks appearing between almost every syllable.

"Oh, dude, do it!" Dougie exclaimed, grinning widely. Harry nodded, winked at Dougie, grabbed a fat slice of pizza and chucked it in the air, opening his mouth wide for it. However, instead of landing in his mouth it landed on the light fitting in Tom and Danny's living room and half of the topping slipped off of it and onto poor Jess's head, who squealed, making everyone else laugh. To her credit, she laughed as well.

"I'm gonna wash my hair and then do my homework – see ya!" Jess gave them a smile before exiting the room, a plate with a slice of pizza on it and a can of Coke in hand.

"I'll...I'll get that pizza." Harry could barely choke out the words any more: he had gotten to that stage where everything is senselessly hilarious, as had the other three. Standing up, he managed to grab the remaining slithers of pizza and yank them down (in the process, smearing his hands with tomato and cheese), only to suddenly lose his balance and fall straight into Dougie's lap.

"Hey, big boy." Dougie whispered in a supposedly seductive voice, which was too much for Danny. He topped off of the sofa, clutching his stomach as he soundlessly laughed. Harry suddenly leant forwards and kissed Dougie, and within seconds they were clutching each other as they made out, closer than they had ever been before.

The final audition had been that weekend, and Dougie and Harry had come to stay with them for a week to get a feel for the music before the four men began to work with their management to get a record deal.

"Come here, Danny." Tom murmured, indicating the two men. Danny grinned, and slid up close to Tom, kneeling over him. Their hands grabbed at each other as they kissed passionately, a warm, wet kiss that they both enjoyed. Tom slipped his hand down to Danny's crotch, palming him in a way that just hit Danny's interest. Within a short while, Tom felt Danny's boner beneath his hands. Danny, meanwhile, had slid his hands up to Tom's arse and was lightly rubbing them, occasionally interspersing the rubbing with a little slap, making Tom's penis slam down and giving him his own boner.

"Jess?" Danny suddenly called.

"Yeah?" she replied, through the closed door.

"Don't come in the living room for a bit!"

Jess sighed theatrically: she knew exactly what that meant. She'd had too many accidental walk-in-on-them experiences not to heed their warnings.

* * *

The next morning, the four men woke up in various states of undress, all refreshed by the previous night of fun and sex. Dougie was strewn across Harry, Harry just in his boxers but Dougie pretty much fully dressed. Tom was totally naked, and had fallen asleep bent sharply at the waist over the edge of the sofa (he'd been too tired to move after everything that had happened), with Danny curled up by his head dressed in a shirt and trousers, but no boxers. Groaning at the light, Tom checked the time. Half six in the morning. Yanking on his clothes (which were distributed throughout the entire room), he wondered through to Jess's room. She was buried in her homework, earphones plugged into the MP3 player that had been returned to her when they got back to the flat.

"Dad, I thought you'd be..._decent_." Jess moaned when she saw him. "I went to get a glass of water in the middle of the night...thank god it was dark, I didn't see anything, but...ugh."

Tom blushed scarlet. "I'm so sorry, Jess! I honestly didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, dad." Jess glanced up from her homework. "What are you four doing today?"

It was the first day to the new half term. "After I've driven you to school we're going to teach Dougie and Harry some of the songs that we've written – we're going down to the studio. I'm going to come and pick you up fro school again, but then I have to go back to the studio for another hour. We'll all be back at half four at the latest."

Jess nodded. "Do you want me to do dinner?"

Tom shook his head. "I'll get your dad to cook something. He hasn't cooked in a while."

Jess nodded, grinning. "Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"You might want to look in the mirror."

Tom rushed from the room and to the bathroom, grabbing the nearest mirror in the clean little room. On his face, someone had drawn a moustache in marker, along with a beard. He had obviously fallen asleep before anyone else, and they had taken advantage of his heavy sleeping. Grabbing a flannel and a bar of soap, he turned on the hot tap and began to scrub. Thankfully, it washed off soon enough, so he threw himself in for a clean shower, changing into the clean clothes that he automatically set out in the bathroom each night ready for the next morning - after all, he wasn't the responsible one for nothing.

* * *

Once he had managed to wake up the other three and convinced them to shower and change into clean clothes, he began to prepare breakfast for all five of them. It wasn't anything complex – just a load of toast and some chopped fruit.

"Man, I'm starving." Harry exclaimed as he sat down, grabbing a slice of toast and the jam jar. Jess, who was already seated, laughed.

"What?" he asked, smiling a little as he munched on his toast.

"You would be hungry, after all the noise last night."

To Harry's utter embarrassment, she then winked at him. Tom, who had overheard, chucked a satsuma at her.

"You spend too much time with your dad, Jessica." he reprimanded as the others entered the open kitchen and sat down.

"Which one?" she sweetly asked, using the joke that had annoyed her so much during the ride in the minibus to the final auditions.

"Me, prob'ly, and I d'un't even know what you're talking about." Danny mumbled, through a mouthful of toast and lemon curd.

"Yes, you – our daughter has a filthy mouth!" Tom half complained, half joked as he began to eat his own plate of food.

"That's your fault – don't ya remember what ya were sayin' to me last night?" Danny grinned, too full of high spirits to be put off by the whack over the head with a newspaper that Tom gave to him. Everyone else at the table roared with laughter, ignoring how scarlet Tom had gone.

"Dad, it's time for school." Jess reminded him as she finished her breakfast and hastily placed her dirty plate and glass into the dishwasher.

"Give me a second."

One of Tom's greatest achievements was remembering how to drive after pretty much a decade not driving - he had simply climbed into a car and remembered, which was more than could be said for his parents, neither of whom could remember. Due to the length of the underground lives that they had lead, as well as the Leadership itself, Danny had never learned to drive, nor had Joy, Lauren or Carrie. Every morning he drove Jess to school in the little family Mini Cooper, and every night he drove her back. Both loved the quiet time for them both, as it gave them an opportunity to have a sensible, intellectual conversation without Danny (bless him) trying to say something clever and actually being so stupid he made them belly laugh.

* * *

"Dad?" Jess spoke more quietly than usual, usually a sign that she was contemplating.

"Yes, love?"

"When are we going to go to the doctor's about my depression?"

Tom could punch himself. "Oh god, I for-" Tom stopped himself: revealing that he'd forgotten that his daughter had problems would sound like the most insensitive thing ever. "I'll sort an appointment out as soon as possible."

Jess smiled lightly. "Okay, thank you. I've just been feeling quite rough recently, and I don't want to start self har-" Jess's hand clapped over her mouth. Tom was just driving into where he usually dropped Jess off, and stopped rather suddenly.

"What were you about to say?" Tom asked, his knuckles white as he clenched the steering wheel.

"N-nothing." Jess stuttered, noting his harsh voice.

"You were going to say 'I don't want to start self harming'. Have you done it before?"

There was a moment of silence before Jess very uncomfortably squeaked out a, "Yes."

Tom drew a hand up to his face, covering his mouth and nose. Tears watered in his eyes.

"Jess, you can't. I know what you're thinking, and I know how you feel – you _can't. _I did, and it took a lot for me to stop."

Jess practically did a double take. "_You _used to self harm?"

Tom spoke stiffly, as if someone had grabbed hold of him from the inside. "I- well, you know I'm bipolar, right? Well, from about two years before we adopted you until you were about eleven, I sometimes used to cut myself and bruise myself when I couldn't handle situations that upset me, or made me angry. I did it for different reasons – sometimes out of depression, other times out of anger. Jess, you can't do this. I won't let you." Tom grabbed Jess's hand and squeezed it, looking dead into her green eyes as she tucked a strand of brownish blonde hair (it had darkened over time) behind her ear. "Jessie, you were eight five minutes ago...what happened to you?"

Jess laughed. "Life."

It occurred to Tom that the fourteen year old in front of him had seen infinitely more hardship in her first eight years than he had in his entire life. Sighing, he gave her a huge hug and opened the car door, giving a flourish to make her smile before letting her out. How had life for children changed so much since he was little? When he was fourteen, all he cared about was singing, acting, guitar and porn!

* * *

"This song is _awesome_!" Dougie exclaimed, grinning as he worked his fingers across his bass. "What's it called?"

During Danny's part in the song, Tom whispered, "POV."

Suddenly, Harry began to play along to the song on the drum kit provided, enjoying the firm feeling of the wooden sticks banging down on the taut drum skin. When the song finally died away, Dougie and Harry shared a high five: within three listens, they had worked _something _out for the song, and something is always better than nothing.

"Shall we go and get some lunch?" Tom asked. "I'm starving."

"I'll go with ya." Danny smiled at his husband, slipping his hand into the blonde's. "What d'ya two want?"

"I'll have whatever's easiest." Harry grinned, tapping the tips of his sticks across the drums, which created a quiet little tippety-tap noise underneath the low rumble of chatter and music from the rooms surrounding them. Dougie nodded.

"Same."

Little did Tom and Danny know, going for lunch would turn out to be the worst decision of their life. The two left the tiny practise studio practically clinging to each other, Tom slipping his arm more tightly around his husband when they passed the always-angry security guard. Tesco was only a five minute walk, and they could get loads of stuff, so they wouldn't need to leave the studio again until Tom had to collect Jess and they had to go home.

"Hello, boys." a stiff, familiar voice called from the side of the road they passed. The two turned to see who it was, and almost fainted. Stood, dressed in ragged clothes and with a deep cut above her eye, was Soldier Miller. Her impressively muscular figure had been worn away through malnourishment, and any fat had vanished as well. She had gone from an intimidating woman to a very thin lamp post. The only remotely scary thing about her was the gun clutched in her left hand, on which the safety clicker had been melted off, leaving a tiny, uneven bump of metal in its place.

"Leave us alone. We did nothing to you." Tom brusquely said. "We'll call the police."

Soldier Miller laughed, her voice heavy and thick as if her throat was clogged. "When you left, I had to take over. No one liked me like they liked Danny – it caused a war. Then I had to leave, live rough. Well, my companions are all ready to start another war, and I'm ready too."

Her scratchy voice coursed through the two of them, and Tom felt fear freeze him. Danny was completely shellshocked.

"Please, just let us go." Tom pleaded. In his pocket was a mobile phone fitted with a GPS attached button. If he pressed it, the police would immediately be informed that they were in instant danger, and needed assistance. Without catching Soldier Miller's eyes, he pressed it three times. 'Extreme Danger'.

"I'll let one of you go." she gave them a startlingly toothy smile before whipping the gun up, and shooting. It wasn't well aimed, nor was it in any way expert. It did hit a target, though. Danny crumpled to the floor, hands clutching his quickly bloodstaining shirt. Tom sank with him, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"No, Danny, you're going to be fine." Tom babbled, feeling tears well in him. The blood was coming too fast. There was no way Danny was going to be okay. Danny was going to die. Danny. His Danny. The man that he had gone through everything with, stopped by a single little metal pod.

"I love you, Tom. Jus' stay with me." Danny's eyes were welling with tears, but he blinked them away, pulling one blood covered hand away from his stomach and pulling Tom closer to him. Tom wrapped his arms around Danny and began to kiss him passionately, holding the man so close it was as if they were one person.

"No, Danny, no. No, no, no, no!" Tom's voice was desperate. "I love you. You can't die, you can't..."

Just as Tom drew away, Danny gave a tiny smile. Then, it was obvious he was gone. His normally bright blue eyes dulled a little, and his cheeks paled like mist settling on a cold December morning. In Danny's place was an angel, and on his lips the smile from his final kiss. Tom felt tears choking through his throat, and finally he allowed them to pour out, resting his face on Danny's warm, bloody stomach as he screamed. Emotion overwhelmed him. Danny was gone...Tom was gone.

* * *

_Here lies Daniel Alan David Jones_

_Husband, father, musician._

_Heaven needed another angel, so they snatched you._

_Also Jessica Fletcher-Jones, died age 14._

_Took her own life._

_The world was too bitter for an angel like you._

* * *

You might wonder how I, an author called Rickard Buillon, know so much about Tom Fletcher and Danny Jones.

A couple of years ago, I changed my name.

Originally?

My name was Tom Fletcher.


End file.
